A Twist of Love
by sparkles59
Summary: Daenerys and Drogo had a rough start, that much we all know. In the show she cries, but in the book she says "Yes", so I wrote about it the way I wanted their relationship to progress. This is the prequel to Healed.
1. Chapter 1

THIS IS MA. Seriously. Of course, we're dealing with the first few months of Daenerys' marriage to Khal Drogo, so . . . rape? It didn't happen that way in the book, and it was a great disappointment to me to see what they did with that scene in the show. I was heartbroken. I don't know if it was better or worse that I understood why they did it that way, so to explore it a bit more in depth would probably resolve some hurts, yeah? That's my aim, here. Well, one of them ;)

I've had this story in my Word account for nearly 3 years. It's what got me started on my other story, Healed, and where I really wanted this couple to go. Since Healed has become so loved and followed, I thought I'd post this one for your reading pleasure, also. Thank you so much for your support and your time in advance should you choose to read and review.

* * *

The sweet smell of incense and beeswax candles filled the cool air; the braziers were already lit and struggling to warm the inside of her small tent. Daenerys lay quietly on her bed and waited for the Khal to join her. _My husband_, she corrected herself. She didn't think of him as such, though, more as a person to be feared than loved. She couldn't speak his language and he only came to her to take his pleasure before retiring to his own tent for the night, so she felt no real connection to him. But somehow she was still _his._

She could hear the raucous laughter and pounding of horse hooves outside as the men enjoyed their racing and drinking. She knew eventually he would come; she just had to lay there and wait. There was no getting around it, and struggling would displease both the Khal and her brother. When she felt the most despondent, she tried to think of a way to just end her miserable life, but there was always someone watching, always someone with her, always someone who would prevent her from harming herself. And there was the dragon in her dreams, breathing flame onto her, and into her, giving her strength to endure her days. _I am Khaleesi, to be guarded and then fucked_, she thought morosely. Was this what her mother had intended for her life to be like? Viserys often liked to say that she would be a dreadful disappointment to their mother if she didn't do as she was told. But _this? _Had Rhaella meant her for_ this? _No, Rhaella had finally had a girl child to be the wife of her son, Rhaegar, but she had been born too late, Rhaegar already killed by the warhammer of the Usurper, leaving her to be the wife of the next son, Viserys. She belonged to him, to do with her whatever he saw fit. It was her duty to obey him without question.

The night after their wedding, Khal Drogo came to her and seemed to be expecting something more from her, but she had no idea what he was watching and waiting for her to do. He had sat and stared at her, and with no common words, she was left to guess what he wanted. She had simply removed her clothing and got on her hands and knees like he'd taken her that first night, hoping that was what he wanted, and squeezed her eyes shut as she held her breath, silent tears coursing down her face. After that night, he would come silently to her tent, fuck her, then leave. She was relieved when he would pull out and then leave her for his own bed. That way she could be alone when she cried herself to sleep.

Her brother was angry with her despite her efforts to submit to the Khal. He expected her to win him over with her charm, and that just wasn't happening. She was more of a glorified slave instead of the Khaleesi, he had accused. He demanded that she make the Khal happy. She tried every night, but she didn't know what to do other than what she was already doing; letting him take what he wanted so she could be safe and alone, away from him and the fear his presence brought. He had yet to strike her, but she watched him carefully from lowered eyes just the same, as Viserys would often hit her when she least expected it, and the Khal had bigger hands that could easily hurt her worse than her brother's ever had. She lived in terror of those hands.

It was nearly dawn when the Khal came to her tent. He quietly unlaced his pants and knelt next to her bed, pulling her to him by her hips. She woke with a start, and whimpered and bit her lip as he shoved himself into her, not bothering to even give her a chance to move herself into position. She squeezed her eyes shut and let him pound her from behind, not revealing how much it _hurt_, not wanting him to be displeased with her. She whimpered into her pillow as he sped up, covering her sounds. When he finished, he pulled out and got up, tied his pants and left without a word. Daenerys cried quietly, sobbing into the soft furs and cushions of her bed, pulling her sleeping silks back down her body and covering herself with her blanket.

Dany woke late the next morning, surprised that she had been allowed to sleep so far into the day. She tossed off her blankets in a state of anxiety, not wanting to anger the Khal with her tardiness. There was no one in her tent except Irri, who calmly settled her back down to sit on the edge of her bed as she pulled Dany's sleeping silks over her head. "The Khaleesi will ride with the Khal tomorrow," she said. "We will stay here another day."

"Why?" She rubbed her eyes and looked to Doreah, who had come in quietly with clothing for Dany. Her eyes still burned from her tears the night before, and she was sure they were still red.

"The rains will come today, Khaleesi. There is danger from above before the third day," Irri said simply.

"Lightning strikes can cause wildfire, Khaleesi," Doreah explained, laying out extra clothes to keep the Khaleesi warm. "We're still on the edge of the forest, so we are protected by the trees. The open grasslands will be in front of us by the end of the day, and too dangerous to travel before the storms end."

The inside of the tent suddenly was darker, and Dany gasped in fear, her heart racing again as it had when she woke up. "It's only oilcloth, Khaleesi," Doreah soothed. "It will keep your tent dry while it rains. The Khal insisted that your tent be covered first."

Dany met her eyes questioningly. The handmaiden quickly looked down after a moment, and then Dany remembered why Viserys had given Doreah to her as a wedding gift. "Doreah, bath, please. Irri, leave us," she said quietly, rising from the bed and wrapping herself in a soft fur blanket.

As she soaked in the hot water of the copper tub, Doreah braided her hair. "Khaleesi," she began timidly. "If I may . . . "

"Yes, you may," Dany whispered, looking down at the water, trying to hide her tears that had already started falling of their own accord. Doreah must have already noticed her red rimmed and swollen eyes this morning, she realized, suddenly dreading the conversation to come.

"You are in pain, Khaleesi?" Doreah asked the question carefully; aware of the dangerous ground she tread.

"Yes, I need to know how to better please the Khal," Dany answered softly. "There has to be a way to make him happy without it hurting so much," she whispered, ducking her head down to look at the water.

"It shouldn't hurt at all by now, Khaleesi." Doreah replied, surprised. "Our talk yesterday wasn't enough?"

Dany raised her head and looked at Doreah. "No, I tried to stay awake, but he came to my tent as the sun was coming up," she said softly, not readily believing her, but _wanting_ her to tell her how to stop the Khal from hurting her. "H . . . how do I?" Doreah smiled and took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, light as a feather in her hand.

That afternoon, refreshed from a much-needed nap and massage, Dany was pulling on her boots at the entrance to her tent. She wanted to ride the silver, despite the misting rain. She needed to think on all the things Doreah had talked to her about, the things she was shown.

Once mounted and riding a distance away from her tent, Dany let out a sigh of relief. She had not known how to respond to Doreah's touches at first, her kisses or insistence on pleasuring her. She had not known or understood how being with a man could bring pleasure, but now she had a small idea. She still had doubts about Drogo liking her at all, having seen him mount other women right in front of her, not caring that she could see. But Doreah's voice echoed in her mind, "_If he wanted the Dothraki way, why did he marry you?"_

She thought long and hard about Doreah's words, too. She had been giving him the Dothraki way, complete submission. Did he not want her like that? What did he want?

She remembered the feel of Doreah's hips in her hands, the gentle and flowing movement as she demonstrated how Dany should move on the Khal, how to gain pleasure for herself from the same movement. Dany had been embarrassed and shy, unsure how to respond to Doreah's demonstration, even more so as Doreah had reached behind her and had touched her gently, using her fingers to caress her Khaleesi and show her how it should feel. It was a lot to think about.

_. . . . . . . _

Drogo watched as slaves covered his Khaleesi's tent with oilcloth. _Safe and dry_, he thought, satisfied. She was so small and fragile, he was concerned she would not live to see Vaes Dothrak. She still trembled like a newborn colt, and would not look him in the eyes. She was terrified of him. Did she not see the honor in being his Khaleesi? Did she marry him only to please her brother? He knew only what Illyrio had told him, that the dragons married each other, so for Viserys to gift his sister to the Khal was unheard of. It pissed him off that she could be Khaleesi only to make her sniveling brother happy. Viserys was lower than a worm in the earth. The only comfort Drogo had was that she seemed almost more terrified of her brother than she was of him.

He had planned to hunt, but instead returned to his own oilcloth covered tent. He kept thinking of his Khaleesi. Such a delicate little thing, so pale and beautiful. He ruled by fear alone, using his power of intimidation to keep rival khals from taking his khalasar; this was the way of the world, but he wished _she_ wouldn't be so terribly afraid of him.

He began to carefully hone the blade of his arakh as he thought of her. She smelled so good, exotic and different than any Dothraki woman he'd ever had the pleasure of taking. Her silky soft skin covered downy limbs that still held some of the awkwardness of a child. Drogo found it endearing and sad that her brother was willing to give her away so young, but he'd benefited from the deal, too. Did that make him just as culpable? He pushed away his guilt at her youth, just as he had done as she had watched the sunset on the cliff on their wedding night. Daenerys was his Khaleesi. He could protect her as his wife, and keep her away from her abusive brother. He had seen the bruises, and it disgusted him. What weakling would harm a woman, a girl child so afraid and submissive? Not Khal Drogo, and Daenerys was now his.

The one thing that seemed to make her happy was his wedding gift to her. He had wanted to know her words as she first touched the silver mare, but no one seemed to be able to translate for her, so he had stepped forward and lifted her into the saddle. _Such a light and fragile little bird. _It was then that he began to worry that she may not survive to make the journey to Vaes Dothrak. She had been hesitant and awkward in the saddle at first, but her joy at her newly discovered freedom had brought him great satisfaction. He had allowed himself to grin at her as she had rode around the wedding camp, letting her see how pleased he was she liked his gift, pleased to see her smile as she gained confidence on her spirited mount.

Her happiness had made him hope she would come willingly to him when they stopped to solidify their marriage. A night under the stars for the spirits and the Great Stallion to witness their union. Instead, trembling and afraid, she had begun crying before she was even undressed, to his great disappointment. But the thing had to be done. He had tried to be gentle, he really did, but he had never taken a woman so unwilling to be taken, and it was beyond his knowledge to make it pleasurable for her. So he had done the best he could, and finished inside her quickly. Her quiet gasp of pain as he left her body did not go unnoticed, nor was the blood from his intrusion. He winced, knowing her small stature could not have lent comfort to the situation, but maybe now she wasn't so innocent, she might learn to ask questions. He could hope. And he could hope that she would not hold this first time against him.

He stopped hoping by the week's end. He would enter her tent, and she would stop whatever she was doing, turn from him, and drop to her hands and knees, like a slave would do. He wanted to talk to her, ask her how to please her, how to make her smile her lovely smile, but she seemed to not want to have anything to do with him. He did not have the words for her, no matter how much he had wanted to speak to her and tell her how much he did want her.

He attempted to show her how to couple, by taking other women in the khalasar in her plain sight, letting her see how he could please _them_ with little effort, showing her how they satisfied him. To his disappointment, she had always averted her gaze and somehow managed to go some place else, where she couldn't watch. His last resort was to get her pregnant as soon as he could, and if she had a female child, he could cast her aside and take a new wife. Every night he went to her and fucked her, keeping himself from other women so his seed would be strong and fertile for only her.

* * *

Now, I'm not saying Drogo's rationalizing of this situation is right. Not at all. But, I can understand this train of thought, given the cultural society he was raised in, so this is the direction I had him take. It's all he knows. What's amazing is that already he is more enlightened than anyone he's ever come in contact with.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok . . . umm, can I have a SUPER MA alert here? Yeah, I need one of those. It practically wrote itself. I can *nearly* take no blame for this chapter. Blame Drogo and Dany. Please.

* * *

Khal Drogo did not heed his body's need for sleep. After he left Dany at dawn, he went back to his red stallion and saddled the horse, ready for the day. He planned to hunt to keep his mind clear and away from her for a few hours. He didn't mind the rain that was beginning to show signs of starting, it wasn't cold, nor did it keep him from finding likely prey. A small wild pig and a few rabbits were just enough game for him to have some sport, and enough to keep him occupied for awhile as he cleaned his kills. He kept the rabbit pelts in the hopes that one day after they were cured they could be used to line the bed of his newborn son. He knew Daenerys would likely appreciate the lack of horse meat on her plate tonight. _Back to her invading my every thought,_ he grimaced. His Khaleesi was always on his mind somehow, had been there since he first laid eyes on her, which was the one time she had kept eye contact with him despite her terror. _Such expressive, beautiful eyes._ He wondered where he could trade for the purple stones that matched those eyes, find her something pretty to wear that she would like. Drogo laughed at himself and shook his head, he was getting obsessed and worked up over a woman who had no interest in him whatsoever.

As he rode back to into camp, he tossed the carcasses to one of Daenerys' handmaidens. "Feed her. She is too thin. I don't want her sick," he commanded, and then took the skins to one of the many women stretching and salting hides on racks, making his mark on the skins with a bit of charcoal so he could claim them later.

It began to rain then, so he ordered that oilcloth be immediately placed over the Khaleesi's tent to keep her dry and warm. She was his to care for, whether or not she wanted him to. He would keep on trying to prove to her that he was a good husband until she could see it. He had never worked so hard for a woman, nor had ever been so unsuccessful in making one happy. It was frustrating, but he chose to see it as a challenge, one of which had the greatest prize of all if he could win it; _her._ He watched as her small tent was covered, then his great tent next to hers. _If she only knew . . . _

He tried to keep his mind busy for the rest of the day drinking with his blood riders and closest friends, though it seemed the more he drank, the more he thought. There was nothing else to do while it rained except to drink and eat and care for weapons. He gave up just as the sun started to set, and mounted his stallion again, this time to let the horse run. They traveled further than he realized, stopping at a stream the khalasar had used midday the last day they had moved. _Fuck._ It was going to take a long time to get back to camp, especially in the dark. He had hoped to check with one of her handmaidens to see if she liked his gift of meat, but he was going to get back long after they had all gone to sleep. He would hurry, and press his stallion into an endurance run like it had never done before.

He jumped off a lathered and heaving horse when he returned, tossing the reins to a nearby slave guarding their herd. He walked to his Khaleesi's tent as fast as his feet could take him. He didn't mean to startle her as he burst into her tent, tossing his pants near the door. She had been awake, waiting for him. She looked up at him, her eyes showing both fear and determination. He knelt down and grabbed her by the hips and began to hike up her nightsilks, but she twisted in his grip and pushed his hands away.

"No!" she said, her voice holding conviction yet trembling slightly.

He pushed her hands away and began to go for her dress again, but she struggled and repeated her assertion. _What the fuck? She's denying me my rights?_ If she began denying him his rights to her as her husband, he felt as though he may go mad, and he was not about to give up the one part of her he could have. He had been watching the stages of the moon, too, and it was time for her to give him a son. She reached up with one hand toward his face.

"Tonight, I would look upon your face." Her Dothraki words stunned him, but he still expected a slap to accompany her fighting him, so he caught her by the wrist before she could touch him. Her gasp, then the strength behind her insistent and intentionally slow reach made him let go. Her soft little hand caressed his cheek and nimble fingers raked through his beard. _What the fuck is this, now? _He allowed himself to become pliant beneath her hands, allowing this delicate little girl to do with him as she wanted. He realized that his hopes were coming to fruition as she used surprising strength to guide him down onto her bed.

As she settled atop him, Drogo realized that her slave had a hand in this, and was relieved that she could explain to his Khaleesi what he could not. That one would need a husband soon, and he'd pick one worthy of his satisfaction of her duties. He let Daenerys glide her body along his, feeling her flesh get hotter and wetter as she moved. He felt her ease upward, and then slowly down onto his length, her walls gripping him tightly, _holy fuck she feels good, _and heard her gasp in surprise and then sigh in pleasure, a sound he'd never heard her make before. _Pleasure. It's good for her this way, _he realized. Her fragile beauty was suddenly his only focus, her stunning violet eyes fixed on his dark green ones, enthralling him, leaving him wondering why he hadn't noticed her intensity before. She was a beautiful, precious thing, lovely beyond anything he'd ever seen, and she was his. His to touch. He ran his hands gently over her breasts and down the plane of her stomach, watching her reactions to his wandering hands. She seemed to like it. He never had the chance to touch her like this before now. Two moons worth of nights were regretfully lost.

Dany watched his expression change before her eyes. His once impassive face suddenly held emotion, and it was directed toward her. Something flickered there in his dark eyes. It was just as Doreah had promised. He really did care for her! He wanted the same thing she did. She was so lost in the depths of his beautiful green eyes it startled her when he suddenly sat up, stilling her movements with his hands on her hips. He pulled her against him. _Mine_, his eyes seemed to say. _Yes, Drogo, please. More, _she tried to say back with her own. He gripped her hips gently, and began to move her in a slow, undulating rhythm, wanting to hear her sounds of pleasure again, enjoying his own body's reaction to her sounds. He closed his eyes briefly as he let the sensation of her body growing wetter surround him, making his own movements sweeter and much more pleasurable, her hands coming up to hold his face, stroking his cheeks.

He could smell her, sweet and citrus mingled with musk; she was aroused. She smelled divine. He wanted to drown in her scent. He barely had a moment to enjoy it before her soft lips touched his. He froze for a moment, unsure what to do. He'd never kissed before. He'd only taken slaves as his needs required, and none had such appeal as to be face to face as he fucked them. _Daenerys. _He was suddenly lost in her mouth, his tongue greeting hers softly before he took over the kiss, becoming more aggressive and encouraged as she moaned into his mouth, her tongue willfully tangling with his as her fingers tangled into his hair, holding him to her. _Fuck yes, fuck yes, _his mind shouted at him. She tasted so good, her tongue soft and hard at the same time, her lips swollen and brightly pink. Her breath was sweet as it mingled with his and he inhaled her breath like a drowning man gasping for air. He was shocked at how good it felt, being so close to her, knowing _she wanted him there._

He leaned forward to kneel, laying her down on the soft furs of the bed, and lifted her hips up to meet his, her shoulders and head the only parts of her touching the bed. He began to work her hips in a vertical motion, pressing her tightly against him, loving the torrent of moans and cries erupting from her lips. He kept his pace, gritting his teeth against the intensity. _None_ of the women he had been with ever felt like this. None. He wanted it to last longer, this insane pleasure, this intense madness as his Khaleesi lay beneath him, willingly moving with him, her legs anchored around his waist, arching her back, her body giving him more satisfaction than he'd ever experienced, _and she was receiving it,__ too_. She was squeezing him so tightly with her inner muscles that he could barely breathe, so caught up in _her_ bliss, her scent, and the feel of the softest skin he'd ever known. She became the world entire in that moment. Nothing else existed except this beautiful woman child who was his wife.

His breath hitched as she gasped and cried out, her sweet tight flesh clamping down on him so hard that he had no choice but to follow her in orgasm, pounding his length into her at a furious pace as he let himself fall. _Holy fucking shit. _He felt like he was dying as he roared out her name with his release, blinded by the intensity of it. He held her tightly to him, spilling into her deeply with a few last thrusts. He held her hips up with an arm wrapped around her back for a moment, his other hand bracing them up as he caught his breath before falling forward onto her, careful not to crush her with his weight.

Dany was breathing so hard she thought she would pass out, Drogo holding himself up slightly to allow her to breathe before kissing her again, tenderly this time. Her mouth was addictive, and he wanted more of it. She tasted so good, sweet like honey, and she was so willing to give him everything in her kiss, every tense muscle in her body seemed to relax when their lips touched. Her hands worked up to his shoulders, and simply rested them there for long minutes until he made to move off her.

She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled out of her, not knowing the word for "stay". She looked him in the eyes, hoping he would understand. His dark eyes gazed back for a moment, and then he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, tucking her closely to his side before he reached down for a blanket to cover them both. He had been wrong, so wrong. She did want him, she just didn't know _how_ to be with him, and he had no idea how to be what she needed.

It took some time for her to fall asleep. She was overwhelmed by the sensations she had just experienced, and how it felt to be next to him in the night, skin to skin, warm and held like she was something precious. She'd been afraid of him for so long that this tender side caught her completely off guard. She slowly forced herself relax in the darkness, letting his body's warmth and his steady breathing soothe her despite its foreign presence. His hand came up and gentle fingers traced over her eyelids, encouraging her to close her eyes, and she smiled at his gesture, knowing he was awake, too. It was comforting that he was having the same trouble falling asleep next to her.

She carefully rolled over onto her side, facing away from Drogo, but pressed her back against him purposely so he wouldn't think she was rejecting him. He rolled, too, and wrapped one huge arm around her, holding her tightly against him. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting her tears of relief, and let out a long sigh of contentment. _Relax and let it happen_, Doreah had urged her. _Khal Drogo is not a man of wanton cruelty, and it is plain for everyone to see that you're the one he wants. Show him the way, but let him take over, and he will show you how much he wants you._

She felt him move his lips close to her neck, his breath soft on her skin, making her break out in gooseflesh. He nuzzled her ear and placed feather light kisses down her neck, holding her tightly to his chest. She could feel his breath quicken when she reached up and grasped his arm that he was using to anchor her to him, digging her fingers into the hard muscle to let him know she liked what he was doing. She closed her eyes and smiled. He felt so good when she forced herself to relax and allow her mind to not worry about his motives or what would happen tomorrow.

Daenerys had worried every day of her life. What could she and Viserys eat? When would he get angry and hit her? Where to hide from crowds to keep the Usurper's hired knives from finding them. What lie were they telling people to keep their identities secret? Her entire life had been based on a set of ever changing rules, rules set down by Viserys. Drogo was completely different than her brother. His rules didn't change, and she had yet to see him get truly angry. He seemed to be as constant as the stars, while Viserys was like the sky, ever changing, sometimes light, sometimes dark and thunderous for no reason she could fathom. Some time during her thoughts and Drogo's tender touches, she fell asleep in his arms.

She woke the next morning alone, the sun already filling her small tent with its warm, golden glow. She glanced around anxiously before her eyes fell on him, sitting next to her small table, food already laid out for them. His eyes met hers, and instantly he was on his feet and then kneeling next to her side of the bed, his hand reaching out to touch her face with fingers that were gentle despite their hard callouses. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm and sighed softly. When she opened them again, he was still staring at her face, and a slow smile spread from his lips up to his eyes as he took in her gaze.

After a brief, quiet meal, he waited for her to dress, watching her pull on her boots before slipping her dress over her head. He shook his head at her, pulling the filmy lavender cloth over her head again, his voice sharp and harsh as he demanded of her handmaids. Immediately, tight fitting Dothraki pants were brought, a leather skirt to wear over, and a woven top, all from one of her trunks of bride gifts. He grunted in satisfaction at her new attire, nodding and tugging the top down so it grazed the waistband of her pants. He said something gently to her, and Irri quickly said, "The Khal says you must to wear more comfortable clothing for riding, Khaleesi. He has seen your sores." Dany nodded, locked gazes with her husband, and gave him a genuine smile. "And a Khaleesi should wear the clothing of her people?" She asked, slightly nervous, but with a hint of playfulness in her tone. The Khal's response to Irri's quick translation was a smile quickly followed by a kiss. He would have liked to have lingered, but Vaes Dothrak called out to him, and he was eager to get his wife home.

He led her out to the horses, and lifted her onto her waiting silver mare. Dany noticed many of their people watching her, watching the Khal interact with her for the first time in front of anyone. He handed her the reins, and he softly patted her thigh with one large hand before running it up her waist and then grabbing her hand for a soft squeeze. He turned then and walked over to his own horse and mounted. She ducked her head and smiled softly before assuming her place in the khalasar, watching the tents be taken down and carts loaded, her silver mare pawing impatiently into the rain softened ground.

* * *

So, smiles now instead of tears. But, as I'm sure all of you know, issues are not resolved in one night.


	3. Chapter 3

So, more of that super duper MA rating. Yeah. The newlyweds have finally started to sort themselves out. ;)

* * *

The khalasar traveled late into the evening that day. The stars were starting to come out before they began to circle the grass and crush it down for tents and firepits. After circling a few times with the other riders, Daenerys began to look around for her tent, normally one of the first ones erected by the slaves. She couldn't find it. Her home was nowhere in the khalasar's camp. She stayed mounted on her silver, wandering and confused, before Doreah found her. "The Khal has requested you come to your new home, Khaleesi," she said with a soft smile. "He would have Khaleesi stay with him now."

Dany let herself be led to the Khal's huge tent, where she dismounted, took off her boots and entered. Immediately, she noticed that the Khal's bed was made up with her blankets and cushions, and that her clothing and possessions were scattered about in an orderly way, as if they'd always been there. Already hot water was waiting in her bath, the lightly fragrant almond oil inviting her to soak away the dust from the day's journey. She turned and looked back at Doreah.

"He's waiting for you to be comfortable, Khaleesi," Doreah answered her unspoken question. "He will come later, after the khalasar is settled for the night. He said whatever you wanted to change in here was yours to do so."

Daenerys glanced around and then met Doreah's with eyes full of gratitude. They shared a smile. "Thank you, Doreah," she said softly.

"I only did what you needed me to, Khaleesi," she replied, casting her eyes downward. She quickly undid Dany's braids with deft fingers and prepared her for the bath.

Dany eased herself into the hot water and explored the Khal's tent with her eyes as she soaked. She'd never been in it before. Their first night together was under the open sky full of stars, and the next night was in her tent, where he'd been expecting more and was disappointed when she didn't know what to do or what he wanted. She wished she had saved them both many nights of trouble and had spoken to Doreah right away.

She spotted many of her bride gifts, including the beautiful bow and arakh given to her by Drogo's blood riders, the gifts she had followed tradition and refused, instead giving them to Drogo. Her clothes for the night were hung carefully next to the bed, as well as what she would wear the following morning. It really was as though she'd been living here with him all along.

As she dressed in her soft dressing gown, she discovered more of her bride gifts, and more of her clothing and items that wouldn't have fit in her small tent. Items she'd completely forgotten about, jewelry and adornments, her set of silver bands that had been braided into her hair for their wedding in Pentos. They'd been here and waiting for her the whole time. _He_ had been waiting for her, she realized. She had married him in Pentos, but their real marriage was truly only a day old.

She expected him to come to her late that night, just as he had always done in the past, so when he entered the tent before the evening meal had been laid out, she was surprised. He removed his arakh and then his boots before glancing up at her. She saw something in his eyes as he saw her there, and then he smiled slightly, a look of satisfaction on his usually unreadable face. _He's happy I'm here,_ she thought. She walked toward him timidly, and was relieved to see the smile grow as he reached out to her.

She took his large hand in her small ones, once again intimidated by their size and strength. She still was only accustomed to her brother, and his hands hurt her more often than any other action. He sensed her hesitance, and curled his fingers gently around her hands, holding them softly. She looked up at him, and he started to say something but stopped, frustrated by the lack of common words. Drogo squeezed her hands a bit more firmly and then slowly pulled her close. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, the Dothraki way of kissing, sharing their breath - their souls. Dany closed her eyes, breathing him in, his scent of a thousand fires and summer grass, sun and wind, sleep and sex.

Irri came in quietly at that point, carrying food from the fires outside, just a bit of something to hold off Dany's hunger until the late night meal was ready. "Irri, I have need for you tonight," Dany said softly, breaking away from Drogo. "You need to speak for us until I learn Dothraki."

"Yes, Khaleesi," Irri said quietly, putting food down and then moving to the back of the tent, giving them the illusion of privacy.

They sat together, eating in a comfortable silence before he turned to her and spoke.

"The Khal would know why you are afraid of him, Khaleesi," Irri translated.

She thought carefully for a moment, not wanting this powerful man to change his mind about Viserys' army. She was terrified of failing her brother, of course, but now, she was afraid of failing herself, too. She wanted her marriage to the Khal to mutually happy for her and Drogo, over and above what her brother wanted.

"My husband is a large and powerful man. I would be foolish to not fear and respect him in all things," Dany replied, looking down at the table as her voice shook slightly, hoping her answer was satisfactory.

She was taken by surprise as his hand came into her view, gently touching her face. He looked at her when he spoke, guiding her to look him in the face. Tenderness was in his eyes as they met hers.

"Khal Drogo would have you look him in the eyes, Khaleesi, and know that he would not harm you. Unlike your brother, he will not hurt you. You are his Khaleesi, to be respected and cared for."

Tears filled her violet eyes as she kept his gaze. _How did he know Viserys hit me?_ She wondered. He reached over with one finger, much like on their wedding night in Pentos, and brushed the tears from her cheeks as he spoke, gesturing to the other side.

"The Khal saw him strike you at the manse in Pentos. He saw the bruises on your leg where he pinched you after you first mounted the silver mare. He will kill Viserys if he threatens you again."

"No," she whispered. "He's supposed to be a king. It's his right."

As Irri translated, Drogo began shaking his head at her. "Khal Drogo says the only rights are for those who are strong enough to take them, Khaleesi, and if your brother needs an army to seize back what is his own, maybe someone else should have it."

Dany's gaze drifted downwards again, silent, her hand coming up to touch the Khal's fingers, pressing his hand to her face. He guided her eyes back to his, his words suddenly soft and gentle.

"The Khal would have you to join him in the bed now, Khaleesi. He wants you to come willingly, as you did the past night," Irri said softly. "He wants you to enjoy him as he does you."

Dany smiled shyly, and stood. It was a seemingly simple thing to talk about removing clothes in front of another, but Dany found herself intimidated. He watched intently as she untied the ribbons of her sleeping silks with shaking fingers, Doreah's words of encouragement from the other day fading from her memory. All she could see was his eager gaze falling on her body as the silk fell to the soft carpet.

Quickly he was on his feet, and she was suddenly frightened. She took a step backwards ready to flee. He stopped where he stood, then reached his hand out slowly, as though she were a wild horse in need of taming. Drogo took a slow step toward her, and she forced herself to calm her breathing. He said something so softly that Irri couldn't hear, so he glanced at her in the back of the room and repeated it.

"The Khal would have you lead, Khaleesi. He assures you he will not harm you. He only wants your pleasure, and a son when you're willing."

Dany blushed, and Drogo watched the pink slowly make its way from her cheeks down her chest. He smiled encouragingly at her, reaching his hand out a little further. His smile grew broader as she very slowly reached out and took his hand in hers. Squeezing her hand, he pulled her close and kissed her fingers softly before speaking again.

"The Khal would very much like to father a son, Khaleesi. One that shares your eyes."

Dany's throat caught on a huge lump that suddenly formed there. "I would like that, too," she whispered, not breaking her gaze from his face.

He bent toward her, scooped her up in his arms and softly kissed her mouth. She quickly kissed him back, letting her lips fall open to accept his tongue, encouraging him to kiss her deeply, feeling all the anxiety leave her body. He acquiesced without hesitation, giving her everything she asked for, proud of his little wife for becoming less fearful of him. He carried her to the bed, and laid her down on it gently before climbing over her to lie on his side facing her.

Reaching over, he let one hand gently stroke her side, simply touching her pale, soft skin while his eyes stayed locked on hers. He kept his movements slow, regretting his earlier actions of roughness with this beautiful girl, regretting the nights that followed their wedding night. He had taken it slow and touched her gently that first night, but after she showed no sign of wanting anything to do with him, and he had assumed she only married him to please her brother, the weak and whining snake. He'd become annoyed with that, and then was determined to at least get her with child quickly so he could be free to pursue another wife if she failed to give him a son. She changed everything when she had touched his face.

Daenerys leaned toward him, and tucked her head under his chin. She reached around his side with her own hand, running her fingers over taut muscle and tanned skin, realizing he had bathed before coming to the tent. He smelled of water and the oil he used in his hair. She pressed her nose against his chest, embracing him as he stroked her back and ran his fingers through her hair.

Drogo let his hands wander at will, stroking her back with gentle fingers. Her skin was so very soft. His hands worked slowly down to cup her rear, pressing her against him tightly, and he smiled as she arched her backside into his hands. It was all the encouragement he needed as he pulled his chest back to look her in the eyes before leaning down to kiss her.

Her arms flew up around his neck and she deepened the kiss almost immediately, his hands moving her body upwards so he could claim her mouth entirely before entangling themselves into her hair. He grabbed one of her hands and guided it down to his erection, her small and soft hand making him moan as she grasped him. He showed her how to hold him, her hands inexperienced with the movement and pressure, and brought his own hand down to touch her. She gasped and practically melted in his arms, earning her a smile from her husband. He touched her softly, slowly letting his fingers glide back and forth, her sounds of surprised pleasure encouraging him, her body becoming more and more wet and welcoming.

He could smell that intoxicating scent again, sweeter than before, her arousal overwhelming his senses as he kissed her. _Slowly_, _she likes this part slow,_ he reminded himself, guiding himself to her tiny slit, rubbing the tip against her soaking wet heat as she arched her back and opened to him. He pushed forward, just enough for the tip to slide in, and his head rocked back as he gasped in the same breath that she mewled out in pleasure. _Her fucking heat,_ _this is going to feel so fucking good, _he thought, amazed at how much better it felt when she was willing and so highly aroused. He pushed in achingly slow until she began moving under him, trying to get him to go faster.

Grabbing her by the hips, he rolled over, letting her settle on top and press down on him at her own pace. He twitched deep inside her, and he gritted his teeth, trying not to come immediately, her velvet depths wrapping around him tighter than he thought possible. He held her still, gripping her thighs tightly, his eyes locked on hers for a moment before she rocked her pelvis once, and he slammed his eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure that bordered on pain. He bared his teeth as he ground them together, and she stilled against him, letting his breathing slow for a moment, her panting giving away her pleasure.

"Drogo, I need to _move," _she whimpered. "_Please!"_

Irri had gone out the back of the Khal's tent long before this moment, but Dany's sweet and pleading voice coupled with his name he knew what she was trying to say. He liked the sound of his name coming from her mouth more than he thought he would. He struggled to control himself, against his need to just let loose and come right then and there, his name still on her lips.

He slackened his hold on her after a few moments, moving his hands to her beautiful breasts, heavy for their size, cupping and holding them, gently stroking her soft skin as she began to rock against him. Her mouth was open slightly and she was making small noises, pants and whimpers as she rolled her hips gracefully on him, her eyes locked on his, her hands braced on his chest.

He needed to kiss her. He had wanted to watch her face as she found her pleasure, but suddenly he _had_ to kiss her, have her mouth pressed to his. Drogo rolled them over quickly once more, aggressively possessing her mouth as he did, enjoying the feel of her meeting his pace and strength as she kissed him back fiercely, holding his face in her callous hardening hands. He began to pump into her harder than he ever had, but before he could worry about hurting her she cried out and wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head back to expose her lovely neck.

He couldn't resist. He leaned down and bit her, hard, where her neck met her shoulder. He didn't know what he was expecting, but when she exploded around him and screamed out in her orgasm, he was surprised. His little wife clamped down on his cock as hard as her nails dug into his back, and he slammed into her and erupted within before he could hold back. He growled "Daenerys," into her neck, still holding her with his teeth, feeling the burn as he came deeply into her and as she wailed and bucked beneath him.

Drogo's thrusting slowed and finally stopped, but still he lingered within her, kissing her face and licking the red and purple bite mark he left on her neck, soothing the sting as they shared heaving breaths.

Dany held him tightly with both arms and legs, not wanting him to pull away. Her neck _hurt_, but not in a way that was unpleasant. His tongue licking and soothing felt incredible on the sensitive skin. She cried out softly when he finally withdrew from her. Not knowing how to ask, he cupped her sex gently and looked in her eyes, his unspoken question there. She smiled and sighed, nodding her head and kissing him lightly on the lips. He smiled back, and returned her kiss before rolling off her and pulling her into his side.

Dany snuggled into him and rested her head on Drogo's chest. She drifted off in his arms as he pulled her blanket and pelts up and over them both. She sighed and pressed her nose into his chest, drawing in his scent as she drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

I'd like to say they're calming down, but they're not. *sigh* Any dialogue and such that is recognizable to belong to Game of Thrones belongs to their respective artists/writers/whatevers. I own nothing. Well, I own plenty, just not anything of Game of Thrones.

* * *

She was startled awake by Irri and Doreah bringing in supper. Drogo stroked her hair and held her until she awoke completely, then left the bed and retrieved some food. He sat on the floor next to the bed and gestured for her to stay lying down while he pinched a bit of roasted meat off the bone, "_Gavat,"_ he enunciated, and then fed it to her before taking a bite himself. He held up another bite for her and waited. She struggled to understand for a moment, but then repeated his word. "_Gavat_," she whispered, and he grinned and placed the bite of meat to her lips. She had never been fed like this and it felt a little strange at first. What made it more unsettling was she _knew_ this wasn't the Khal the rest of the world understood and obeyed. He was not all all frightening to her at the moment, sitting cross-legged on the thick woven carpet, nude and not the least bit self conscious about it. She quickly found if she relaxed and just accepted it as he had done, she felt much more at ease with everything. Not just with him, although he was a big part of it, but the feeling of being looked after, not having to worry constantly if she were two steps from either being struck to the ground or murdered by a stranger.

As he held out another bite for her to take with her teeth, she reached out hesitantly and touched the scar running through his eyebrow and down his cheek. He gave her a slight smile and shrugged as if to say it was nothing to fuss over. She brought her fingers to her lips and kissed them, then touched his scar again. He reached up and held her hand to his face, stroking her hand before bringing her fingers to his mouth for a kiss.

After eating his fill with her, he dressed in just his pants and boots, and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. He called out to Irri to come in the tent, and spoke quietly to her for a few minutes, more words than Dany ever heard him say at one time.

After he left, Irri came and sat with her on the bed. "The Khal would like you to come out and join him at the fire, Khaleesi, when you are dressed and ready."

She made to get up, but Irri gently pushed her back down with a smile. "The Khal also would like you to rest for a little while. A happy and rested Khaleesi is more likely to conceive," she said quietly, her gentle smile growing so Dany could see her white teeth, such a striking contrast from her dark copper skin.

"Oh," Dany said softly, turning pink and getting comfortable in the Khal's large bed. _Her bed now, too_. She hoped she would conceive soon, wanting to please the Khal, but she realized in that moment she wanted the baby, too. Her own child, with Drogo's dark hair and skin, maybe with her Targaryen eyes. Dany made herself a promise to watch how other mothers in the khalasar cared for their children, so she would have at least an idea of how to do it. Growing up, babies and children had always belonged to other families, while Dany and Viserys were left to wander on their own with no family but each other. A baby all her own, someone who had no idea what cruelty, starvation or pain could really be, and her baby would not know any of those things as long as she could protect it. She smiled at herself, no longer a child herself at fifteen, and wondered if her mother had felt that way about her. She could hope.

She spent the next hour talking with Irri and learning a few new words of Dothraki before getting up to dress. She chose just her dressing gown that had been discarded so hastily earlier that evening. It was thicker than a dress, and covered more of her body than her Dothraki clothes she had worn that day. The night was chill and crisp despite the day's heat, so a lovely pelt was chosen from the bed for her to wrap around her shoulders, too. She flashed a shy smile at Irri as she left the tent, feeling as though everything was about to change.

When she stepped out of the tent, she was surprised at the number of eyes looking back at her from the fire. Most were Drogo's blood riders; some were slaves, and Ser Jorah Mormont, who was seated next to her brother. She flushed pinkly, knowing they must have all been here for some time and had heard all that came from the tent _before._ She pushed aside her embarrassment, avoided Viserys' gaze altogether and spotted Drogo sitting at the far side of the fire, no doubt to see her when she came out. He reached out a hand for her. She smiled and walked toward him, making her way through the crowd, ignoring everyone around her except Drogo. He gestured for her to sit, moving the blanket out from under him so she would be able to share it. She shook her head, still smiling, and gestured for his lap, hoping he would like that more. His eyes showed that it pleased him greatly, a secret gleam meant only for her, but he simply grunted and spread his legs so she could sit in her preferred spot.

Daenerys settled down into Drogo's warm embrace, and leaned her head back onto his chest. The fire was warm, and the raucous chatter and jesting picked up again around her, making her feel at ease despite only catching one word in about fifty. Her husband's voice rumbled from time to time as he talked and drank with his riders, and she felt herself getting sleepy. The fur around her shoulders Drogo had moved to her lap and it was spread over her like a blanket. One of his large arms was wrapped around her waist, securing her against him, and she drifted off.

A loud burst of laughter startled her awake, but what made her jump was Drogo's warm fingers pressing against her heat, casually stroking her under her clothes as he talked to another man sitting near them. The pelt over her lap kept his movements concealed, and she quickly closed her eyes again to keep it a secret. The split second before her lashes closed, she saw Viserys glaring at her and she felt guilty. Of course he was angry with her for not sitting with him. But as long as she was with Drogo she was safe, she realized, protected for the first time in her life. Her husband was ten times what the man who used to be her brother was. Her Sun and Stars.

She drifted off again, the gentle touches relaxing her as much as arousing her. She hummed softly in the back of her throat, and covered his hand with her own, following and guiding his movements, coming awake as he touched her just right, grasping his hand to encourage him. He then rubbed her lightly and rested his cheek on the top of her head to listen to her heightened breathing before pressing into her slightly. She gasped quietly and rolled her hips. He pressed a kiss to her hair as she quivered and came silently around his finger, allowing her to grip his hand tightly and move it away before she drifted into sleep in his lap.

Drogo gently carried his sleeping wife to bed a few hours later. He managed to untie her gown, get her in the bed and covered without waking her fully. Part of him wanted to rouse her for another round of hot sex, but his growing compassion for Daenerys won out and instead he climbed in bed next to her and gathered her into his arms. She needed rest if she was to conceive, and she had been getting little enough of that the past few nights. He felt her settle back into a deep sleep almost instantly as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

She woke early the next morning, buried beneath Drogo's sleep heavy arm and leg. She giggled softly, and tried to push him off. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tighter against him, and he rocked his hips into her side, showing her that at least one part of him was awake. She shifted so her back was pressed against his chest, and rolled her hips back into his.

Dany's movements pleasantly awakened Drogo. He let his hand wander down to her waist and pulled her flush against him, his cock running halfway up her back. He was pleased to hear her soft moan, and brought his hand down to her beautiful little slit, already wet for him. He stroked her gently, the lightest touch seeming to give the best reaction, her soft sighs and little moans telling him what he needed to know. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he leaned over more to watch what he was doing, amazed at how beautiful she was.

Her arm snaked up and around his neck, holding him tightly, enjoying the feel of his beard pressing into the bite mark on her neck, still sore from the night before. She hadn't bothered to look at it, but noticed that Irri had eyed her neck with a grin the night before. She debated covering it, but decided she didn't mind it enough to bother.

Drogo removed his hand and gripped her hips tightly. She willingly pressed back against him, eager to feel the new pleasure again as he guided her back to him and impaled her slowly on his length.

. . . . . .

It took over two weeks for the bruise on Dany's neck to fade, and as it disappeared, she slowly began to notice other changes with her body, too. Her moon's blood was a mere stain one morning and nothing more. She thought her breasts were tender from Drogo's near constant handling, but after an evening of just the lightest of guided touches, she discovered it wasn't him after all. Some of her vests were a tighter fit around her breasts, too. She kept quiet, though, and hoped in her heart she wasn't wrong. It felt good to have such a secret from the world, a hope that no one else had an inkling about.

Something told her to keep this secret from her brother for as long as she could. The further they got from Pentos, the angrier and more unstable he seemed to be. She wished he would wear something else besides his heavy wool tunic and leather jerkin, both stained and stinking from all the endless hot days riding in the grass. He refused to change into cooler and more comfortable clothing, announcing that it was beneath the dragon to wear the clothes of foreigners and savages, staring pointedly at her own Dothraki clothing before turning on his heel and walking away from her. It stung a bit, but she shrugged off words that months earlier would have destroyed her. Drogo looked on her only with his pleased grin when she would pull her leather skirt over her riding pants and pulled a short vest down over her breasts, and his eyes were the only ones that mattered.

The khalasar was traveling through grass that rose high over them, tall enough to be trees, though she was assured by Irri that it was indeed grass. She stayed well behind the slaves who were tasked with clearing the grass so the horses could pass through, her silver filly shying from the swinging blades, rearing and lashing out at them, and she'd almost lost her seat. It was hot and humid, the rains still trying to escape back to the skies through the thick and dense grass, and she felt as though she was wilting. The only thing that seemed to help keep her distracted was to talk. She was talking with Ser Jorah when she was hit with a sudden wave of nausea. Her skin broke out into a cold sweat, and she could no longer hear what he was saying, his voice swelling and receding like waves on the beach.

She was not really aware of the command she gave, but corrected Ser Jorah when he remarked that she was giving orders like a queen. "Not a queen, a Khaleesi," she had responded, almost impatiently as she could feel her stomach churning. She dismounted and quickly walked through the tall grass, trying to gather herself together so she wouldn't be sick. She wasn't ready to share her baby with anyone yet, not until she told Drogo. She breathed heavily for a few moments and then steadied herself.

Viserys burst through the grass on his horse, making her jump. A feeling of dread washed through her shaking limbs. "You dare to give orders to me . . . TO ME!" He dismounted and seized her harshly by the throat. She suddenly wished she could vomit in his face, but she could barely breathe as it was. "You do not command the dragon! I am the lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I don't take orders from savages or their sluts. Do you hear me?" He pointed his blade at her throat and she felt a sting as the blade touched her skin. _Oh gods, he's going to kill me, and then_ _Drogo is going to kill him, _she thought as she struggled to breathe without moving and enticing him to press any harder on that blade that shone so brightly in the sun.

She saw Rhakaro behind him through eyes searing with unshed tears, her young _kha_ barreling through the tall grass and with a mere flick of his wrist, his coiled whip was wrapped around Viserys' throat as he jerked back. Viserys landed with a sickening thud to the ground that would have knocked the air out of him if he had been able to breathe at all. He gagged and choked as Irri translated Rhakaro's suggestion that Dany have Viserys' ear off to teach him to respect her. Everything up to that point had happened in such slow motion that she fumbled with her words, not realizing she was pleading with her own guard to spare her biggest antagonist. She caught herself, and corrected her words.

"Tell him, I do not want my brother harmed," she said forcefully, and Rhakaro looked at her first and then Irri, not understanding why he couldn't take the worm's ear. Irri shrugged, not sure herself why Daenerys wouldn't want to strike some fear into the whining and arrogant man.

Her _kha _gave a command to his horse, and the animal stepped forward, loosening the taut whip and allowing Viserys to be released. He immediately gasped and rolled over. "Mormont, kill these Dothraki dogs!" he screamed from the ground, like a young child who had lost his temper.

Several more of her _khas_ appeared in the clearing, seeming to have melted out of the tree-like grass. Everyone stood still, waiting to see what would happen, looking to Daenerys. She was still too dazed and shocked to do much but look to Ser Jorah, who pointedly looked away from Viserys to her and suggested they return to the khalasar. Dany looked at the man who used to be her brother, and then nodded slowly. Irri helped her mount her silver, and Ser Jorah followed her out of the clearing.

A few miles down the road, Dany glanced back, hoping to see where Viserys was. Rhakaro rode a few horses behind her, and he grinned at her and gave a small gesture to the horse next him. It was Viserys' horse, riderless. She jerked back her silver and waited for Rhakaro to catch up to her, Irri following closely behind. "You . . . you didn't . . . " She felt sick again for seemingly the hundredth time that day.

Rhakaro just grinned and shrugged before Irri translated his few words. "Your brother will have very tired, sore feet by the time he reaches camp tonight." Dany felt both relief and dread at the same time. She would feel the brunt of his wrath. She couldn't hide behind Khal Drogo every hour, and she knew it.

* * *

Uh oh . . . One idea that I toyed with (but could not make it work, for the life of me, I TRIED!) would be to have Khal Drogo corner Viserys one night and grab him by the throat like he had done to Dany. Just Drogo lifting him up and holding him there for a minute, never saying a word, just looking him in the eyes as Viserys struggled and turned purple before Drogo dropped him to the ground and walked away. I might still do that. I'll give it another go. :)


	5. Chapter 5

The lightning strikes . . . ;)

* * *

Irri stuck close to Dany that afternoon, and they resumed her lessons in Dothraki. Dany would point things out, and Irri would give her the words, then make her repeat them over and over again until she could pronounce them perfectly. Casually, Dany pointed out a nursing mother and child on horseback, asking Irri for the right word for baby, _enta,_ then mother, _drane, _and then she quickly moved on to rabbits, _mawizzi, _and the deer, _qiaseh,_ that ran across the great road the khalasar was making. She hoped that Irri wouldn't follow her reasons for asking.

Irri began to tell her a story in the Common Tongue, switching to the Dothraki word when it was one Dany knew, trying to help it all flow together, mixing words more and more as she told the tale. Dany was able to follow the story of how horses had been born out of the great lake at the edge of Vaes Dothrak, known to the Dothraki as the Womb of the World. It took concentration to remember all the words she had been taught, and had to ask Irri to stop halfway through so she could try and process the first half. Irri waited patiently, realizing how seriously the girl was taking her lessons, and it gave her encouragement to teach her more.

Drogo rode by them on his red stallion, he slowed for a moment to look at Dany before smiling and then riding onward to the front of the khalasar. Irri looked at Dany for a moment and then grinned. "Khal Drogo has been struck, I didn't believe Cohollo when he told me, but it's true," she said softly, and it was then that she started looking at Dany differently, as if she believed that this foreign girl was truly now her Khaleesi.

"What? Struck? What do you mean?" Dany demanded. "Who would dare strike the Khal?"

"Only the sky fire, _sisi,_ from the Great Stallion," Irri answered. "There is a story about how the Great Stallion was struck with _sisi_ and he forever after followed only one mare until he returned to the Nightlands, Khaleesi. It is known that no other Dothraki man has since been struck so. It is foretold that when the next Dothraki man is struck, the son that is born will be the Stallion Who Mounts the World, the Great Stallion come again."

"Tell me," Dany demanded eagerly. "I haven't heard this story before."

Irri wove an incredible tale about when the Great Stallion came to the world, he came on the first horse, out of the Womb of the World. Restless and seeking companionship, he moved from Vaes Dothrak under the Mother of the Mountains to a great land. It was green and bountiful, so the Great Stallion settled there with his herd. When he grew bored of the fighting stallions and the endless grass, he began to explore the rocky cliffs on the very edge, always restless, never staying in the same place. One day, as he was seeking water in his travels, he found a young woman sleeping next to a spring. The skies opened up, the thunder, _temme,_ rolled around him, and he was struck by white hot _sisi_ from the clouds. He looked at the now frightened young woman, and his entire being yearned only for her. He kept her only to himself and did not mate with the other women of his herd, only her, and did not allow the other stallions to touch her.

Daenerys listened to the story with rapt attention, picking up and understanding more words as Irri recanted her story, never knowing that "savages" as her brother called them, had such beautiful tales of life and love. She was so caught up in the story, her inner voice startled her. _If it were true, would my baby be the Stallion Who Mounts the World? _In the tales of Westeros, she knew that there was to be a Prince Who Was Promised, and the worshipers of R'hollor, the fire god, promised Azor Ahai, a savior for the world. _Were they all one and the same?_ She was suddenly more worried than she felt she had ever been. It was a big burden to put on a small baby. _Blood of the Dragon. _He would need to grow strong and healthy with Drogo's immense khalasar at his back. Dany smiled to herself. She was already thinking she was carrying a boy. A girl she would welcome just a much, but something inside her heart and mind was telling her that her baby was indeed a boy.

The khalasar broke through the tall grass late that afternoon, heading into a flatter plain where the grass was only waist high. It made it a bit more problematic when Dany had to stop to relieve herself, not wanting other riders to see her, and she was beginning to notice she had to stop a lot. Irri waited for her patiently each time, and helped her remount her horse with a small smile on her face. _She knows,_ Dany thought,_ but won't say anything until she knows for sure_. Dany realized she was going to have to say something to Drogo that night, she couldn't put it off any longer.

She spent a long part of the late afternoon thinking of ways she could tell him. She had the word for baby. _Could it really be so simple? I'm going to start showing any day now, _she thought. That morning, dressing alone, she had palmed her belly like she had done every morning over the past few weeks, and there was now a distinct hardness and a bump between her hip bones, about the size of an apple. A _qazer, _she corrected herself, applying her lessons. It had not gone away after she had relieved herself, so she had pulled her riding pants up a little higher to try and hide it, and chose a different skirt that fit a little higher on her hips.

Dany was elated when she saw Drogo raise his hand above his head in the gesture to make camp. She rode in the circle a few laps, crushing the grass down a bit so level places could be found to make tents for the night. A little stream ran through the middle of camp, so Drogo directed their great tent to be built upstream from the rest, fresher water available for bathing and drinking was a perk of being Khal. Dany stayed on horseback as she watched slaves dam up the stream a little near the tent, creating a deep and calm pool. She smiled, knowing what her husband had in mind for her. She waited until the tent was fully ready before dismounting, and went immediately inside, glad to sit and rest for awhile. She laid down on the bed crossways, and pulled one of Drogo's cushions under her head. She promised herself that she would just close her eyes for a moment.

Doreah was shaking her awake gently, and a sleepy Dany playfully batted her hands away from her shoulders. "Go away," she pretended to complain. "I'm still tired!"

Doreah laid down next to her and cuddled up behind her Khaleesi. "Irri told me a secret," she teased in a singsong voice, whispering in Dany's ear.

"I know two secrets," Dany retorted. "One more than you, so you go first."

"Irri says Khal Drogo has had the lightning strike," she murmured, brushing Dany's hair back from her face. "The first Dothraki male to fall in love so deeply that he forsakes all other women since the Great Stallion left to ride in the Nightlands."

"That's no secret. Cohollo told her that," Dany admitted. "He is not the same man in this tent as he is outside of it."

"Khaleesi," Doreah began in her teasing voice again, but Dany shushed her. "There's no need for 'I told you so's' here," she teased back. "You're going to have to wait for my secret until tomorrow."

"Irri told me that one, too," Doreah taunted playfully. "I know what you know."

"Shhh, stop your playing. Let me sleep." Dany elbowed her in the ribs, making her maid giggle, effectively changing the subject. She briefly wondered how Doreah was enjoying her marriage to one of Drogo's young bloodriders. She had forgotten his name, but from how playful Doreah was being, things were good. Ah, young Holakko had taken her for his primary mate, she remembered suddenly.

"I came to wake you for supper, Khaleesi. The Khal is waiting for you out there. You've slept all evening. He is wanting you to join him for food and then swimming in the pool he had made for you," Doreah answered, accepting the subject change. They laid quietly together for a few more minutes before Doreah prodded her again. "Come, up you get," she called, and stood up. She took Dany's hands and pulled her to standing, giving her the large fur pelt at the end of the bed to wrap around her shoulders.

Dany pulled the great silver grey pelt around her body as she stepped out of the tent, her eyes searching for Drogo. Her mind railed in anxiety, worried that Viserys could possibly have already caught up to the khalasar, but she tamped that fear down. It was impossible for him to have walked as fast as the horses, for as long as the horses had. _What if someone gave him a horse,_ she thought, but dismissed that thought immediately. Once a walker, any Dothraki passing by would have more sense than that, for walkers and cart riders were the lowest of the low in status, except birthing mothers. Then it was acceptable to walk and ride in a cart. Dany suddenly had a whole new list of concerns with that thought. She did not want to ride in a cart, no matter the reason. A Khaleesi in a cart seemed almost as bad as being a slave and a walker. She was glad that she would be safely in her home with Drogo in Vaes Dothrak when it was time for her baby to be born.

She spotted Drogo quite a distance from their tent and fire. He was sitting with a group of his blood riders, watching one of the women roasting meat on a huge fire with a spit. They were laughing and drinking, but it was obvious that Drogo was bearing the brunt of his friend's jokes. He was taking it with good humor, but the older one, Cohollo, was trying to wind him up with words she actually knew. _He's teasing Drogo about the lightning_, she realized with a blush, pleased with herself for working out the conversation, but a bit embarrassed that the relationship she and Drogo were discovering with each other was such a laughable thing for his friends. She worried that he might not be so happy with her after this bout of jesting. Maybe he would back off and not want her as much.

He caught her staring at him and grinned at her, holding out his hand to invite her to come to him. She smiled back, more relieved than she wanted to examine, and quickly made her way through the people and grass to sit on his knee as they waited for food. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, resting her forehead against his neck. Cohollo coughed and laughed, but was completely shocked when Dany stuck her foot out and pushed him off balance, knocking him to his ass on the hard ground. The loud and raucous laughter that rang out from all around them startled her, but as Drogo roared out in laughter as he held a hand out for his drunk friend to get up, she began to giggle, too.

"Even she can kick your ass, old man!" he roared out, and Dany was pleased she could understand and follow what was said. "Next your horse is going to get you!" He leaned over and kissed her soundly on the mouth, causing whoops and more laughter to erupt around them as she pulled herself tighter to him and kissed him back. More and more people starting to gather around them as they kissed, the noise around them becoming deafening as the warriors began chanting. She couldn't make out the word from all the noise, but she threw herself into his kiss before breaking away to catch her breath. His eyes were all she saw when she pulled away.


	6. Chapter 6

Having been in a situation where I knew only a few words of the language spoken around me, I'm having Dany use my 'game' to have some fun with the language barrier. If only she wouldn't constantly worry about what was going on, and let her brain just float on the sea of words . . .

* * *

Daenerys rejoined her Khal at the fire after she had finished her swim, refreshed and happy. She nervously looked around for her brother, but there was no sign of him yet. Rhakaro sat at the far edge of the group with Irri curled up next to him, and he gave her a reassuring smile and a small gesture of his hand to tell her that Viserys had not reached the khalasar yet. She couldn't tell whether it made her feel better or worse.

She worried for a moment that he had gotten lost, but then shook her head at the absurdity. Khal Drogo's khalasar was so big that they cut a swathe through the grass large enough that it would have to be an impossibly dark night indeed to not find the road they had made. She hoped he would catch up to them soon, but part of her didn't want him to come back at all. Drogo had yet to see the cut on her throat, though it was shallow and she had repeatedly wiped the small line of blood so many times that it was just a faint, stinging pink line underneath her jaw. If she kept her head down, perhaps he wouldn't notice at all. She wasn't aware of the bruise marks that just fit the size and shape of her brother's hand on her neck.

As she sat and relaxed in the warmth of the fire and Drogo's skin, she started her nightly game of picking out words from conversations that she could understand, and attempt to figure out what they were talking about. She was finding herself more and more successful as the nights went on, and it encouraged her to keep trying. _Rhae Mhar _were words repeated over and over again from many different conversations around her. Everyone was talking about the same thing tonight. A word she didn't know, and the word _foot._ Irri was sitting too far away, and not facing her, or she would have called her over and asked. Instead, she watched as her handmaid leaned back into Rhakharo's arms and Dany sighed as she watched him toy with her hair. She looked up at Drogo and smiled, her view of his face obscured by his beard and chin.

He was intently following and participating in an animated conversation with two of her young _khas_, and she had a moment of panic. _Would they tell him about what Viserys had done? _She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Drogo roared with laughter and stroked her hair softly as she reclined in his lap. They must be talking of something else. Drogo repeated the Rhae Mhar and laughed again. _Oh, it was some sort of joke_, she realized, and leaned back sleepily, allowing her mind to relax and let go of the words and puzzles around her. _Why would feet be a joke?_

She awoke as Drogo gently scooped her up in his arms and carried her to their tent. A few drunken whoops, whistles and loud catcalls followed them, and she giggled softly, waving over his shoulder at them. Loud laughter followed her gesture as the tent flap came closed and cut off the outside world. Drogo set her down on her feet and pulled her by the hand to one of the braziers. He knelt down and before she could duck her chin down, he had a hold of it and was lifting her chin to see her neck. _Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit,_ she thought, panicking. He tilted her head back a bit more, and sighed softly before kissing the stinging pink line. He brought his fingers up to her neck, tracing around the mark. She winced as she discovered the bruises he was prodding.

Dany struggled to duck her chin back down so he would stop poking around on her neck. He simply moved his hands to her cheeks and pulled her face to his for a gentle kiss before resuming his task. As he prodded another bruise, she realized what he was doing. He was wanting a reaction so he could judge how badly she had been hurt. She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her neck, shaking her head slowly and smiling, touching her bruises and shrugging her shoulders. He grinned at her, and let her go, standing up and lifting her vest over her head, groaning in approval at the sight of her breasts.

She smiled as she stepped into his arms and began to unlace his pants before she finally realized what they had been talking about at the fire. _Rhae Mhar . . . _Rhakharo had assured her that her brother would have sore feet come tomorrow . . . they had been calling her brother Khal Rhae Mhar. The Sorefoot King. Her _khas _had indeed been regaling the Khal of her brother's actions and her reactions, surely the cause of the laughter. If she had been the girl she was months before, she would have died of embarrassment for him. Now, she felt a dark sadness and despair for the actions that caused him to be called so, but realized that it had been his own fault. It suddenly occurred to her that he would never understand that they were making fun of him, and it struck her as ridiculously funny.

Drogo watched as his wife began laughing, her shoulders shaking with her suppressed giggles. He grabbed her hands from his pants, bemused, and demanded to know what she found so funny about undressing her husband, but she simply looked at him and giggled before tilting her head back for a full blown laugh. He was stunned. Floored. Astounded at the beauty before him, her laughter sweeter than the sounds of the rushing river, wind in the grass, the singing of the warriors in their camp. He had to hear that sound every day, now. Between fits of laughter, she looked him in the eyes and said, "Khal Rhae Mhar," and started laughing again._ Fuck me, she's learning,_ was his astonished thought before joining her with chuckles of his own. He began to understand what Cohollo was talking about, the old fucker. He felt as though he _had _ been struck by lightning. No other woman could possibly compare to the beauty before him. The repercussions of it he would worry about later, much later. He had more important things to concentrate on, namely making Daenerys beg and scream in pleasure.

He unlaced his own pants then before spinning her around and untying hers. He gathered her in his arms and pressed his chest to her back as he held her. He brushed a soft kiss to her neck, hoping that he wouldn't aggravate her bruises with his kisses, because he wasn't going to stop. He brought his hands around to cup her breasts. They felt warmer than they had before, and heavier. _She is getting healthier, _he mused with a smile. _ A few nights of early sleep have done her well. _Encouraged, he squeezed tighter and heard her gasp.

Daenerys grimaced in pain before she seized her opportunity as well as his hand from her aching breast. She gently guided his hand down to her lower belly, and placed his palm over her growing bump that had become so apparent to her. "_Enta_," she said softly, using the Dothraki word for baby. He froze, and then spun her around in his arms.

He asked her something but she didn't understand his words. He stopped for a moment, thought, and touched her belly again with one shaking finger. "_Enta?"_ he asked, softly, using the word she had had used, hoping he hadn't misunderstood her. He held his breath as she guided his fingers, having them press into her slightly as she ran them over the hard lump. He could feel where his child was growing, safe and warm inside her. Drogo found himself on his knees again, pulling her tightly to him as he placed a tender kiss against her belly. He stayed there for quite some time, pressing his face into her tummy and holding her, running his hands up and down her back as he murmured prayers of thanks to the Great Stallion. Now he _knew _lightning had struck him. He had no words for what he was feeling, only that he could do nothing but feel it. She was everything.

He stood slowly, keeping as much of her body touching him as he possibly could, his cock so hard that it felt awkward to move without her pressed against him. Drogo guided her slowly backwards to the bed, and leaned her back so she could lay down. He knelt on the floor between her knees as she lay on the bed, propped up on her elbows so she could watch him. He could see the bump. He could _fucking __see_ it. _Where the fuck have __I been?_ he asked himself as he ran his hand gently over her belly again. _This didn't happen overnight. _Then he grinned. He had been too busy enjoying his efforts to get her pregnant to realize he already had.

He pushed aside his questions about how long she had known, instead grabbing his cock for a few quick pumps to relieve his growing need. His Daenerys was pregnant with their child. He leaned forward and kissed each of her hip points, then her navel before working his way up to her chest, his hands holding her hips down on the bed as he moved up and over her.

He nuzzled her breasts, enjoying watching her nipples immediately pucker and harden under the tickle of his beard. So responsive, and warm. Much warmer than even a week ago. He spent more time there than he usually did, listening to her sounds as he licked and nipped at her in turns before moving up to her mouth. He paused mid kiss, realizing that his child had to struggle for life that very afternoon, when Viserys had Daenerys by the throat. He broke away from Dany's mouth and looked at her for a moment, then moved downward to place delicate kisses along her throat before moving back up to her mouth. He kept his rage under control, planning to get the little fucker later. Now was what mattered, and the little worm had no place between him and his wife. He was going to be a dead little worm if he did it again, Drogo promised himself. Daenerys would be upset, of course, but she would get over it. It was getting to difficult to watch her in such fear when Viserys was nearby, that in itself was enraging to him, but the bruises and the way she watched her brother's hands fucked with him like nothing else had ever done. It had to end, and she would be happier for it.

He pushed all thoughts of her brother out of his mind, concentrating instead on Dany's body sprawled out beneath him. He grabbed her hips and pressed her tightly to him, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist so he wouldn't put pressure on his baby. _We are pregnant. _The little bulge in her belly was turning him on more than he thought it would, her body having accepted and growing a part of him inside her.

He flipped them over so she was on top, and he guided her hips down and over his as they kissed fiercely. He gritted his teeth as she gasped and sighed as she sat up and quickly sank down on him. He was turned up to full and he hoped she was as turned on as he was, because this was going to be quick if he didn't get a hold of himself soon. She felt ready to burst, she was so fucking wet and _hot. _He held her still for a moment, but she fought him off and began rocking on him in quick, short movements. It was only a few short rocks back and forth before she was crying out loudly, her body shaking and squeezing him tightly. _Oh fuck yes, already_?! he thought, relieved as he let himself fall with her, roaring out her name and ignoring the whoops of the warriors and ululating of the women outside their tent as the crowd sent up their prayers for the Great Stallion to be born again.

Daenerys caught her breath and lowered herself down onto her husband, surprised and spent. It had never happened that fast before. She tucked her sweaty face into his chest as the world outside stopped paying attention to them and returned to the fires. She felt safe and content to stay right where she was. She could feel Drogo stroking her back and rear as she lay on him, and he didn't seem in a hurry for her to move, either. It felt good. Nothing was complicated, no cause for worrying. Her life with him was so very simple. Breathe, eat, ride, kiss, touch, make love, sleep. The ease of it was going to take some getting used to, but Drogo didn't seem to mind having patience for her. She realized she wasn't afraid of him anymore. He had reacted more strongly to her news than she thought he would; he was _happy, _and she had caused it. He wanted her still, despite the teasing from his friends, though the jests and the verbal abuse she had heard had intimidated her and made her have second thoughts about trusting him with her heart, but he had taken it all in stride, and had been genuinely happy to see her earlier while they waited for food. He wanted her, and she began to realize that she wanted _him. _She was carrying his child, but it was more than that. She felt as though he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.

She had been wandering for so long, listening to her brother's rants and ravings about how their home was taken away, and his unending plots and schemes to get back to Westeros, to home. She smiled. Her home was only another three weeks away, nestled near a great lake and the Mother of the Mountain. Viserys could find his own way back to Westeros, but she couldn't bring herself to care about it any more. Her home was ready and waiting for her.

She looked up at him, and he glanced down at her upturned face. "It's a boy," she said softly, smiling.

"How do you know?" he asked, making his voice match hers.

"I know," she answered, and she tilted her head up for his kiss, which he gladly gave. He grinned at her, and buried his nose into her soft hair when she laid her head back down on his chest.

He felt the moment she fell asleep, her body going lax and her breaths evened out. He held her close, and breathed a sigh of contentment. Mothers knew things, things that seemed impossible. If she was confident that she was carrying a boy, he could expect a son in due time. A young _khalakka_ for him, a boy to take his place when he grew old. Life was good. He grinned as he realized The Stallion Who Mounts the World was his son.


	7. Chapter 7

Daenerys could hear the morning well before she could see it. People were tending fires and preparing food for the day well before the sun began to greet the new day. She had often wondered how they managed to do it, but then reasoned that the slaves only had to wait for the last of the bloodriders to drunkenly pass out wherever they might, and then decide it was a new day. She was glad Drogo didn't do much of that anymore, well, not without her nestled in his lap, anyway. He didn't seem to mind her nodding off, either. He would just lift her up and carry her to bed when he was ready to sleep.

She rolled over and looked at him, surprised to see him still asleep next to her. He always woke up before she did. He looked beautiful, so serene and even peaceful as he slept. She reached out to touch his face, tracing her finger around his cheekbone and over his scarred brow before his hand came up and clasped hers gently. Dark green eyes met her lavender ones, and almost seemed to look through her before he smiled. She noticed that the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled at her, changing his whole face. His other hand wandered down and touched the slight bulge where his son was growing, and his smile grew bigger. He leaned in for a kiss, pulled her flush against him, and held her quietly for a few moments before letting her go and sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face before standing fully and stretching his arms over his head. He turned and grinned at her, catching her watching him. He leaned down and grabbed the blanket and tugged it off her, laughing quietly at her scrambling to grab it back, smacking her lightly on her naked rear as she leaned over, admiring the view. She flashed him a smile as she gave up, and flipped over on her back and grabbed a few cushions to burrow under, but he was too quick and scooped her up from the bed and set her down on her feet.

He casually bent down and retrieved her pants and handed them to her, then put on his own. She laced them up and adjusted the waistband a little to hide her bump. Apparently this is what he was waiting for her to do, because he reached out and untied them, loosened them a bit, then retied them so they settled lower on her hips, their baby suddenly on prominent display for anyone paying enough attention. He grinned at her as she huffed at him, and he sauntered out of the tent, shouting to his bloodriders as soon as he had stepped outside.

Irri came in to help braid her hair and teach her some more words. Pride was one word that she was having a hard time grasping. She was about to move on to the next one when she finally succeeded in wrapping her mouth around the word, just about the same time Irri put her palm to her breast. Her handmaiden's touch made her breast ache as if it were bruised. They felt fuller, heavier, and she had begun to wear tighter vests just to give herself some support. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"When was the last time you bleed, Khaleesi?" she asked with a smile, letting Dany know that she knew. Dany huffed a breath out, but said nothing.

"You're changing Khaleesi. It's a blessing from the Great Stallion," Irri said, smiling.

Dany gently cradled her little bump, smiling. "I know," she said. Happy 16th nameday to me, she thought, suddenly remembering. She hoped Viserys wouldn't ruin it. Irri had said he'd caught up to the khalasar when the sun's first light touched the sky, and Khal Drogo had offered him a cart to ride in. Dany had groaned inwardly at that, knowing her brother had taken the offer as genuine help instead of recognizing it as the insult it was. She was going to have to figure out a way to convince Drogo to let her brother have his horse back. It wasn't going to be easy, she knew that Drogo would enjoy the joke as long as he could. _Viserys, why do you have to be so . . . stupid? Stubborn? Blind?_ She sighed. There really wasn't a word she knew that would cover everything her brother was.

After mounting her silver filly, she rode straight to the head of the khalasar to avoid her brother. She found her place between two of her _khas _with Drogo just a few horses ahead of her. Irri rode next to her, with Rakharo just behind. _Surrounded and protected_. She glanced back once that morning, but couldn't distinguish which cart her brother was in. _Khal Rhaggat_ was the joke by the time the sun reached its zenith and the khalasar stopped for a little while. She sighed, knowing it couldn't be helped if the Cart King was going to be purposely culturally ignorant of the people around him.

She ate a little while they were stopped, and drank some water while standing next to her silver filly. Her stomach was suddenly churning, and her mouth watered as she broke out into a cold sweat. She sprinted out into the plain, throwing herself down in the tall grass before she started heaving, tears streaming down her face from her stomach's violent reaction to the food. She stayed there for several long minutes before taking a handful of grass to wipe her mouth. She made to stand up, jumping slightly as Drogo stood over her, leading her horse and his. He reached down and she took his hand, standing slowly. Without a word, he handed her a water skin, and encouraged her to drink. She obliged him, drinking several long swallows of the cool water as he stroked the back of her neck and pulled her hair away from her sweaty skin.

Without warning, she was back on her knees, vomiting up the water. Drogo deftly hopped back a few steps before it could touch him, and he called for Irri to tend to her, looking a little green himself. He stood back a few paces, Dany realizing he was reluctant to leave her, but he didn't seem to want to stay, either. She tried her best to shrug and smile as she knelt in the dirt and grass, waving him away with her hand before heaving again. Irri came running with more water and a wet cloth for her face. As Dany held the cloth over her face, she could smell mint. Relieved at the fresh scent, she wiped her face clean and sipped the water slowly.

All the commotion had attracted Viserys from his place in a cart further back in the khalasar. "What's the matter with her now?" he demanded impatiently. His question was directed at Irri, who steadfastly ignored him and went about tending to Dany without so much as glancing in his direction. Dany stood shakily, using Irri as support, but Drogo stepped in and scooped her up before she could make eye contact with her brother, deliberately turning his back to Viserys as he lifted Dany not onto her silver filly as she had expected, but on his red stallion. He swiftly mounted behind her and held her tightly to him as they rejoined the khalasar.

Dany kept her face buried in Drogo's chest as they began to move again, hiding from the bright sunlight and the rank smell of horse waste. She could taste the mint that Irri had used in her water, relieved that it seem to help calm her stomach. She could smell Drogo's familiar and comforting scent of clean wind and grass, sex and smoke from last night's fire. She relaxed in his embrace, willing to be held as long as he wanted her to ride with him, and drifted off to sleep.

She was being carried, she realized as she woke slowly, her mind foggy and disconnected. "Drop me," she suddenly squeaked out, and Drogo immediately set her on her feet so she could drop to the ground and vomit again. Spitting out the last bit of nastiness, she slowly sat up until she was on her knees. A blanket dropped over her shoulders, and she noticed that it was dark out. Irri guided her to the great tent, a warm bath already waiting for her. Easing herself into the warm water, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her aching muscles felt better in the water, and she didn't feel so sick.

Irri tried to get her to eat something, what she wasn't sure, but it didn't smell remotely appetizing. She just shook her head and asked for her water instead. Irri brought it to her, and moved a brazier closer to the side of her bath to warm the water more. Before long, she was feeling well enough to be interested in finding Drogo and something to eat. She pulled out her long unused sleeping silks and wrapped them around her and tied the ribbons before reaching for her heavier dressing gown. Wrapped so warmly, she headed out in search of Drogo.

She hadn't taken more than a dozen steps out of her home before her brother stood before her. "Where have you been, you little brat?" he sneered. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

She backed up a step, glancing around, desperately searching for Drogo, knowing she was going to bear the brunt of her brother's anger if she couldn't get away. "I was sick today . . . I was . . . . I was laying down," she stammered.

"Sick on purpose, you mean. You're slowing us down. I want my army, and apparently we need to go to Vaes Dothrak first. This is your fault," he raged. "Some bloody ceremony for the whelp you're carrying."

"Why . . . what?" she whispered. "I only go where Drogo tells me," she answered, trying to placate him. "You've taught me to be obedient, and I'm trying to just do as you've told me . . . " She was cut off as he slapped her face. She whimpered, but refused to cry out. _Drogo is going to kill him if he sees this,_ she realized, panicking. She brought her hand up to her stinging cheek, and managed to block his next slap with her free hand. "Viserys, stop. Please!"

"You tell your husband that I want my army, we are marching the wrong way with my army, and I want the crown he promised me."

Dany nodded quickly, and looked down at the ground. "I will," she said softly, and backed away from him, and went back to the tent. She rubbed her cheek for a moment as she sat down on the bed. Her tummy rumbled in hunger, and she blinked back tears. She didn't dare go out now. She laid down on her bed, making sure to put her now burning cheek on the pillow to hide it. She held her little bump with one hand, silently apologizing to her baby for the lack of dinner before the tears began to run silently down her face and falling to soak the cushion below.

She could hear stirring in the tent. She opened her eyes, realizing it was much later than she thought. Drogo was trying to be quiet as he took off his boots and put his arakh by the door. He came over to the bed and stood over her for a moment, not realizing she was awake, so she sat up slightly. "I'm hungry," she whispered to him. "I was too tired to come out."

He smiled at her then, the worry suddenly gone from his eyes, and gestured to the low table where a hunk of roasted meat and some bread were waiting for her. "I hoped you might be," he said softly. "Not horse. Boar."

She got up slowly and went to the table. "Sit with me?" she asked, glad she knew the words for an invitation.

He sat next to her, and touched her chin, turning her face before she could stop him. She felt the tears swell in her eyes again, and couldn't look at him, but to her surprise, he said nothing. He kissed her cheek softly, and then her lips before pulling her into his embrace. She curled up in his arms as he began tearing her dinner into smaller pieces for her to eat.


	8. Chapter 8

Ok, more of that MA thing. Dany is getting braver, and starting to realize Drogo means more to her than Viserys does. It's a start . . . :)

* * *

Dany managed a few hours sleep, heat uncharacteristically pressing down on them in the middle of the night. She tossed and turned, putting some distance between her and Drogo as she tried to find a cooler spot to sleep. He didn't budge, one arm flung over his face, the other reaching in her direction, reluctant to let her go, but still leaving her be. She reached over to touch his hand, and felt how much cooler his body felt. Panicking, she sat up, startling him awake.

"What?" he demanded, grabbing her by the arm.

"You're, you're . . . not hot," she finished lamely, not wanting to tell him that she thought he was dead. She clenched her empty hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

"No," he chuckled, pleased she was able to speak to him and more pleased he could understand her stumbling Dothraki. "Not hot. Just you," he waggled his eyebrows at her in the dim flicker of candlelight. He pulled her close and sighed as he held her, feeling her trembling stop. "Feels good."

She sighed and curled up in his arms, feeling relief from the beating of his heart beneath her ear. She relaxed and let his body absorb some of her warmth, cooling her down a little. _What a silly thing to think,_ she chastised herself, flinging a leg over both of his as she settled back down to sleep.

A funny tickle woke her in the pitch black of the tent. She was laying on her back, and Drogo was tracing one finger over her bump under the blankets. She smiled and relaxed as he touched her, but as his finger started moving upwards, trailing over her ribs, she began to giggle and squirm. "I knew you were awake," he said, his voice soft and teasing, and she realized she had given herself away somehow. She would never have guessed Drogo to be so gentle with her, let alone the tickling and teasing. She wished she could have known that on their wedding day, she knew she wouldn't have been nearly so terrified of him.

She shook her head. "No, she whispered. "Let our son sleep." She made to turn over, teasing him, but he just reached one large arm over her chest and held her still, answering her by pressing his erection into her side. "Not yet," he whispered back, and then claimed her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless and happy. She knew she was going to have to ask him to give Viserys back his horse, if not for his dignity, then for her own_. I think I know how to soften him up a little; I need to take this chance_, she thought. She pushed him back down on the bed, and made to straddle him, but knew another trick Doreah had taught her that she had yet to try. She scooted back, and wedged her kneeling form between his legs, and took him in her mouth before he could figure out where she was going or before she could lose her newfound courage.

A long stream of expletives left her husband's mouth as she did as Doreah had told her to do. She held his hips down to keep him from thrusting so hard up into her mouth, and his hands came down to her head, one holding her hair back and the other gently guiding her movements as he moaned and panted, a mixture of her name and_ fuck_ and some other words she didn't yet know, but wanted to. _Ohhh, he likes this_, she thought, encouraged. It did more for her self esteem than she could have imagined, and set her body afire. _He is mine_. She let go of his hip with one hand, bringing it down to hold him, and was soon caught up in the swirling delirium of his pleasure, keeping pace with his moving hips, losing track of time despite her aching jaw and tongue. Suddenly she dipped her head down, taking him as far down her throat as she could manage. He gave a shout, and yanked her hair back as he came, pushing her back as he spurted all over her chest and throat. She gasped in shock, not understanding or prepared for his reaction, nor his rough pull to her hair as he hauled her up his body to kiss her mouth. _Ah, that's why_, she thought, and laughed softly before extracting herself from him and finding a cloth to wipe herself off.

Returning to his arms immediately, she curled up and kissed his chest softly as he tried to catch his breath. He stroked her hair for a few minutes, not saying a word, and then placed a gentle kiss on her nose before laying back and falling asleep, sated and happy. His wife seemed to like him just fine these days.

. . . . . . . .

As she was dressing that morning, she gathered her courage and turned to him. "Drogo, my brother . . . I ask you . . . his horse, may he ride today?" she stumbled over her words, having not practiced or planned her words before speaking.

Drogo stared at her, astounded, his morning peace shattered. _Why the fuck should that little worm have his horse back? Why is she asking for him? He hit her just last night, and then she begs me for him to have his dignity back? Does she even realize her face, her gorgeous face, is bruised from eye to chin? That fucker hit the mother of my son. _Drogo narrowed his eyes at her at that last thought, but quickly softened his expression at the look of fear on her face. He never wanted to see her look at him that way again. Ever.

"You are the Moon of my Life, Daenerys. I don't like seeing you hurt. I should kill him, not give him a horse," he stated slowly and firmly, and watched her face fall as she figured out his words. To further make his point, he gestured to her cheek, purple and black near the eye, greenish down toward her cheek. "Look in your glass," he remarked, unable to keep all the bitterness from his voice.

"He just . . ." she trailed off, sighing. She looked down at her hands, around the room, then toward the bed. Anywhere but at him. He watched as she began nervously twisting her hands together, staring at his feet.

He then realized this was about more than allowing the worm to ride. It was her dignity at stake, too. He could tell that she honestly hoped that her brother might be kinder to her if he was on a horse again. Had Viserys suffered enough humiliation to change his ways, he wondered, but his mind came back with a deep and resounding_ No. _He sighed, and thought about it for a moment. "I will tolerate this shit no longer," he said gesturing to her bruised cheek.

She raised her hand and touched her face and shrugged, as though it were nothing. Suddenly, a sick feeling sank like a rock in his gut. It may very well be nothing compared to something that had happened in the past, and the sick part was that he would never know. She would never speak out against Viserys, no matter what he did to her. The thought both enraged him and made him sick to his very core. It would look bad if he gave in so easily, but _fuck_. Daenerys had never asked for anything in her entire life, he suddenly realized that now, but she would give everything if her brother demanded it. Finally, he heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine. He can ride. He is a dead worm if he touches you again. I'm done promising that, Daenerys. You are Khaleesi, my wife, and he needs to leave you the fuck alone."

After a few moments, she nodded. "I . . . will stay away from him," she whispered, struggling to find the right words.

"Good. Rhakaro will follow you today. I don't care if he is 2 paces from you when you need to take a piss, he will be with you," he commanded, and he watched her face color faintly pink as she nodded and met his gaze.

"Yes," she whispered, promising him and herself.

"I swear to the Great Stallion and the stars above, he touches you again, he's dead. I'm done with his shit." It felt good to finally say it, and felt even better as she smiled slightly before agreeing. "You have my boy inside you, Daenerys. I won't have you hurt again. You are the Moon of my Life." He cupped her face gently in his hands and kissed her nose.

She nodded again as he withdrew from her, her eyes happier. "I understand."

"Good."

He walked out of the tent before he could recant, taking a deep breath of morning air, his morning ruined. He had been riding on the high from her gorgeous mouth sucking his cock. He had no idea that she would ever be willing to do that, and he wasn't about to make her, but holy fucking shit, it was such a fantasy come true when she had taken him so deep into her throat that he couldn't restrain himself. _Daenerys_. _Mine._

He was livid that he gave in; the last thing he wanted to see was that sniveling ass back on a horse in a warrior's place. Fuming, he finally spotted Viserys at the edge of camp, watching the bloodriders catch their horses for the day's ride. He grinned, realizing his chance, and hollered for Aggo to catch Viserys' horse as well. The blood of his blood looked at him twice, but called and caught the horse anyway, leading the gelding directly to his Khal. Drogo bellowed for Viserys to come claim the horse that Aggo brought to him, holding up the bridle as he waited for Viserys to come to him like the cowardly dog he was.

Viserys eagerly reached for the horse's bridle, but Drogo moved it up and out of his reach for a moment until Viserys looked him in the eyes. Drogo scowled at him, dropped the reins, and grabbed Viserys by the throat, lifting him slowly off the ground. The weak worm squirmed and wriggled, but Drogo held fast with just the one hand. Drawing him closer, bringing him to eye level, Drogo stared him in the face. "Touch her again. I challenge you," he growled menacingly. "You will die, worthless dragon." Grinning, he let go, letting Viserys drop the few feet to the ground. Drogo stood over him. "I allow you to live now only because Daenerys is not yet ready to watch you die."

He knew the dragon prince couldn't understand a fucking word he said. It didn't matter. He felt enormously better, watching him cower and sputter as he tried to catch his breath. Satisfied, he turned and walked away, a short whistle calling his red stallion to his side. Giving him a cheerful pat on the neck before he swung up into the saddle, he turned and pointed at Viserys. "Stay away from her," he roared, and then rode off to catch Dany's silver filly.

He didn't see Viserys again until they stopped at midday. Dany had quickly disappeared into the high grass, Rhakaro with his back to her and facing the khalasar with an amused smirk on his face as he waited for her to relieve herself. _She is following my direction to the very word_, he thought approvingly. _My smart girl_. He wouldn't need to keep such a close an eye on her after all. She was going to do exactly as he had asked, and she would remain safe by doing so. He looked around, and saw Viserys urging his horse up the line to ride next to Jorah the Andal. Drogo pondered for a moment whether to allow it or not, but then decided it wasn't worth his time to correct the sniveling worm. He did glare at him until Viserys twitched and squirmed slightly in his saddle, though. _Oh, this is fun. I may get some enjoyment out of this after all._

He gestured for Cohollo to ride on Dany's other side so she was flanked by two very experienced _khas_. They wouldn't hesitate to swing a blade at Viserys if he came too close to her. Her three handmaids followed right behind her, knowing what had happened, and followed his command to not let anyone get through them to ride next to her.

He had noticed that Dany didn't eat when they stopped, and she had looked a bit pale. He wanted her to eat, but after yesterday, he decided to not press the matter. She had eaten everything he brought to her last night, so his son was getting some food. Irri had assured him that such sickness was normal with pregnancy, and that it would pass. He hoped she was right. He had never seen anyone be so violently ill before, at least not without a blade stuck in their gut. He could handle blood and cleaning animal carcasses, but when Dany had vomited up just the water yesterday, he felt as though he would join her. He would give her some space during the day so he could avoid watching her be sick. Irri could take care of it.

_Her cheek is still hurting her_, he realized as he watched her gingerly pat it with a wet cloth after taking a tentative sip of water. He could feel rage boiling through him again. She was such a small and fragile thing, and so very vulnerable. He wondered for the hundredth time what kind of fucking waste of flesh would harm such a girl, no matter the provocation, though he knew that Daenerys had certainly done nothing to provoke him. It wasn't in her nature any more than it was in Drogo's to walk behind the khalasar.

He quickly remounted his horse and rode past Viserys, glaring at him before riding up to Cohollo. His bloodrider immediately pulled his horse up a few paces so Drogo could speak to Daenerys. He reached a hand out and touched her bruised cheek softly, and glared back again at Viserys, who was trying to look like he wasn't watching. _Message received, motherfucker? She's mine. Touch her again and you are dead. I'll hang your carcass in a tree for the birds to pick at, _he thought as he glared at her brother.

* * *

Please let me know what you think? I'm a bit proud of this one, so I posted it early ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Oh boy . . . more MA. I'm sure no one is going to complain, and it's nice to see Dany so happy.

* * *

_Two weeks left, only two weeks,_ Dany thought to herself as she mounted her silver. Vaes Dothrak was waiting, and she was more than ready to stay in one place. For the first time in her life, there was a permanent home waiting for her. She felt excited, happy, but a little nervous, too. Of course, she knew that in order for Drogo to remain Khal, he would need to leave and take his khalasar to raid and plunder villages, and visit cities that would give him gifts so his wealth and power would grow. The bigger his khalasar became, the less likely he would be threatened by a rival khal. This was the way of the Dothraki. But, unless she wanted to go, she could stay in Vaes Dothrak. She supposed she would go with him, but she hoped he would wait until after their son was big enough to withstand a long trek. She laughed a little to herself, glancing around at some of the women around her, a few babies still at the breast as they rode. Her son would be the same, likely traveling from place to place when he was only a few moons of age.

Life in the grass wasn't so bad, she admitted to herself. She was getting used to it, and was finding that she actually looked forward to riding every day in the fresh air. She had food to eat whenever she was hungry, and there was plenty of clean water to drink. Her home was comfortable, safe, and clean, and in some aspects it was downright luxurious, and Drogo being in it was the proverbial icing on the cake. Some days were hot, the horses didn't always smell very nice, but at least it wasn't the stink and filth of being in cities.

Dany happened to know a lot about that. She and Viserys had once hidden in an underground sewer overflow for months in Volantis. Thankfully, their hidden space wasn't ever pressed into service, but she never did get used to the smell, and even a few weeks after moving on, she still couldn't seem to scrub the awful stink off her. Her stomach churned at the memory. That was one of two times in her life that she could count her own ribs and see exactly how her elbow joints worked. Viserys would watch her bend her elbow over and over again, as she saw how the bones worked together before he would sigh and look away. She thought it was because she was annoying him, so she stopped doing it. A scarce two years later, she was dressed in silk and standing in front of a frightening horselord, letting him look her over until he accepted her as a gift to be his wife.

Ser Jorah rode next to her, asking her how she was feeling. She smiled and answered that she was feeling better. Her brother was following close by, a little too close for Rhakaro's comfort, she could tell by the slight twitch in her _kha_'s hand, but her brother did not engage Dany in any way. Viserys seemed to be becoming more and more unhinged the closer they got to Vaes Dothrak, and it wasn't the first time Dany had thought about it. He seemed more on edge and nervous than ever, glancing at Drogo every now and again, almost as if he were afraid. Part of her was glad he was intimidated by Drogo because it would keep him from hurting her, but a larger part felt sorry for him. He had lived in fear most of his life, just as she had.

She palmed her little bump softly, smiling. Her son would not know anything about living in fear. Not as long as she drew breath. He would never go hungry, nor would he know anything about what she had survived in order to grow up to become his mother. Ser Jorah left her side and was talking to Viserys, so she moved her horse up the line to ride between Cohollo and Rhakaro. It would make Drogo happy, and his smile made her feel warm. Sometimes simply warm with happiness. More often, it was warm with want. Like right now.

Urging her filly forward, she managed to get right behind Drogo. Aggo noticed her from his place next to him, and he reined his horse back so she could ride next to Drogo, a curt nod to his Khaleesi when she smiled at him in thanks. It took a moment for Drogo to notice that Aggo was no longer next to him, his glance turning to a look of pleased surprise when he met her smiling eyes. "You're happy," he observed gruffly, trying to hide his answering grin.

"Not as _happy_ as I would like to be," she teased, hinting. He stared straight ahead of him for a minute, grinning, his teeth glinting white in the sunlight. He raised his arm above his head for the khalasar to keep moving as he steered his horse off to the side, grabbing the bridle of her horse as well. A few warriors grinned at Drogo and leered playfully at Dany, knowing exactly what was going to happen in the tall grass as the khalasar rode by.

He dismounted and was quickly at her side, lifting her down off the silver, pausing in his motion to put her down in order to kiss her mouth. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck so he wouldn't put her down, and his hands grabbed her by the ass to grind her against him. Lightning bolts of pleasure shot through her body as she gasped. _Ohhh, this is going to be so good_, she thought, and smiled against his mouth as her heart started pounding in her chest.

"I like you telling me what you want," he whispered. "Less questions that way."

She giggled. "I feel . . . want," she whispered back, pressing her forehead to his. "I think your son is to blame."

"Not my fault at all?" he teased, pretending to be hurt.

She snorted a little. "Maybe a little your fault, too," she said softly, and kissed him again.

He squatted down, and then sat on the ground, managing it with agility despite still holding her tightly. The grass towered over them, giving them privacy. Their horses stood quietly, blocking the view of the khalasar even if the grass had been shorter. He pulled her roughly into his embrace, kissing her, demanding she respond in kind, his hand on the back of her neck to hold her close, running his fingers in her hair and making her shiver. Quickly, his hands were on her pants, unlacing and pulling at them until she knelt up and pulled them off while he kissed her neck, nipping at her tender and sensitive skin. She reached down and tugged at the lacing on his pants, yanking them open and setting him free. She looked up at him and smiled before moving down and taking him in her mouth for a moment just to hear him moan. He grabbed her by the hair and moved her up to sit in his lap, pulling her down and sheathing into her quickly as he kissed her passionately, and she moaned into his mouth at the hot throbbing pulse within her. _He is as ready as I am_, she thought, pleased.

"Drogo . . . more," she panted out, starting to flex her hips and move on him, causing him to moan louder and grip her tighter.

"Yes, shit, _Daenerys_. Fuck . . . ." he groaned out as she arched her back, pressing her belly to his. " . . . there . . . " He leaned back slightly, using one hand to hold himself up, the other pressing into the small of her back to keep her close as he began to thrust up into her in short, choppy movements.

She was aware she was making a lot of noise, the loud whoops and ululating coming from the passing line of the khalasar responding to her sounds as she cried out, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Drogo was all that mattered. He was in her, enjoying her as much as she was enjoying him, and the rest of the world could fuck off. His hand drifted down slightly, grabbing her ass and holding onto her tightly as he began to move her, too. She tossed her head back and called out, letting him know how good it felt as her body began throbbing, a deep and pleasant ache starting to bloom within her. _So close, so close,_ her mind chanted. _Oh gods, yes_._ Drogo. _She grabbed onto his shoulders to balance herself.

Dany moved to kiss him, finding he had his teeth clenched together as he tried to hold on and wait for her. "Almost," she whispered to him, and licked him on the neck instead. He jumped slightly, and he sat up more so he could grab her with both hands, seizing her hips and lifting her so he could start to pound her. Blindsided by the pleasure that slammed through her, she cried out and dug her fingers into his shoulders as she came, another intense bolt of pleasure shooting up her spine as he roared out her name and let himself go.

She found herself on her back, head and shoulders resting in the grass while her bare ass still sat in his lap, his hands still holding her hips, supporting her as she lay back. He was still inside her, pulsing, and he was trying to catch his breath. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen as she panted and tried to get more air. He lifted her and withdrew, pulling his pants closed as he lay down next to her. She watched the single cloud move slowly by in the endless blue sea that was fringed by grass being gently blown by a slight breeze. It whispered and rustled around them in the quiet, the walking and traveling of horses and people ignored and forgotten. She heaved a sigh, and rolled to face him. He stared back at her and grinned, holding her pants up with one hand.

"Next time you want to be happy, let me know," he remarked casually, teasing her gently, making her laugh aloud from deep in her belly. He leaned over and kissed her on the tip of her nose playfully. "You are the Moon of my Life, Daenerys," he whispered as he breathed gently on her face, touching their noses together briefly before lowering his lips to hers. He let his gaze wander down to her slightly more prominent bump, and he moved down to tenderly kiss her there. "Mother of my son, my Khalessi," he murmured, rubbing his bearded cheek against her belly.

She smiled then, tears in her eyes as he drew back to look at her again. He truly was everything. "I love you," she whispered back to him in the Common Tongue. When he looked at her strangely, not understanding her words, she sighed and thought for a moment, working it out.

"You are my Sun and Stars."

. . . . . . . . . . .

She picked at her food happily, sitting in between Drogo's legs at the fire, pinching choice bits of meat off the bone and taking her time, ignoring the traditional flatbread next to it. Drogo leaned forward, his arms on either side of her shoulders, and reached down to her plate. He pulled a chunk of meat off her portion and ate it. She elbowed him, making him laugh. "Mine," she growled at him, making Cohollo next to her howl with laughter, taunting Drogo about the dangers of being married to a dragon.

"I'll get you more," Drogo promised her, ignoring his friend. "The women are giving you the best parts."

"Your son should have the best parts," she taunted. "This is mine. Go get more yourself if you want it." She grabbed another piece, but he snatched her wrist and guided her hand to his mouth and ate her bite.

She shot him a playfully dirty look, and brought her elbow up to rest against his chin. "Mine," she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him, causing a whole new round of laughter to ring out around the fire. She grinned at him, and he bent his head to kiss her.

"My son has made you fierce," he said loudly, laughing. "He grows strong inside you."

"Yes, he does," she whispered. "He will be a _khalakka_ worthy of his father."

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm softly. "He will be my pride," he assured her. "Just as you are, Khaleesi."

Her food suddenly forgotten, she turned in his arms and rose up on her knees to kiss him. Loud taunts and jests mingled with the laughter surrounding them as the men began to drink and shout and jeer at them as they kissed. He grabbed her face and held her close as he felt her tongue caress his, and he pulled her roughly down in his lap. He grabbed her by the ass, making way for more laughter, but as he began grinding her against him, she couldn't seem to hear anything but the subtle sounds of pleasure the two of them were making. _Just the sounds of us._ Only the two of them and a fire, no one else. She grabbed him by the back of his head and held on tightly, kissing him with everything she had. She gave all of herself to him in that one moment, and by the way he held onto her, he knew it.

Hundreds of eyes watched as he moved her dress away from her legs and undid his pants, lifting her up and then onto him, groaning out loudly at her heat. Right there for all of the khalasar to witness, she cried out as he took her, encouraging her husband to make love to her in front of the fire. A kind of delirium had taken over her and she didn't care that everyone was watching, all she could see was him. He moved one hand from her ass to her breasts, stroking and petting her chest as he moved her in his lap, guiding her fluid and graceful hips as she rode him. Everyone around them was forgotten as she kissed him, wanting him to feel as good as his words had felt to her before they kissed.

In a moment of lucid awareness, she realized the people around them had grown silent, watching them make love. It wasn't unusual to see men taking women at their late night gatherings, but it certainly seemed to be an event to watch their Khal being taken by the Khaleesi. She became aware that all the eyes were on _her_ rather than on him, but Drogo quickly pulled her back into their own little world as he grabbed her chin and guided her mouth back to his. He stroked his fingers through her hair. She gripped his shoulders with needy fingers. He turned his head and nipped at her neck, causing her to cry out softly. Her eyes met his in the fire's glow, green meeting lavender as she moved with him. He braced her back, his forearm running up her back and his fingers laced through her platinum braids. She cried out again as he ground her against him, and he moaned in response. Softness of belly on belly as they moved. She could feel it building within her, and she bit his lip as he kissed her, telling him it was coming. He grabbed her roughly by the hips, message received, and began moving her faster against him, wanting to hear her cry out again. She didn't disappoint him. Her orgasm thundered toward her like the pounding of running horses, and she arched her back, her head falling back toward his knees as she called out to the stars, hearing his answering roar as he fell with her, holding her tightly in his grip.

He hauled her up to meet his kiss once again, easing her down from her high, running his hands over the bare skin of her neck and legs as he did. Sighing softly into his mouth, she moved slightly to allow him room to withdraw from her body and tuck himself back into his pants. He held her tightly against him, and she rested her head against his shoulder, relaxing completely into his embrace, knowing she was home. _He_ was home.

* * *

I wonder what it must have been like for the members of the khalasar to witness a legend and prophecy happening right in front of their eyes. It's an idea that really made this chapter work for me.


	10. Chapter 10

Ok, FAIR WARNING! Material of a graphic nature and not the good kind. Daenerys is practicing for her heart eating ceremony.

* * *

Dany's appetite seemed to be improving, much to her relief. Just a few days after that horrible day of sickness in the grass, she found she was able to eat a few bites without feeling queasy when the khalasar made it's midday stop. Relieved, she had eaten slowly, and drank her fill from her water vessel without fear as they rode. She was actually hungry when they began making camp for the night, and she was looking forward to her food. She was disappointed that there would be no eating by a fire tonight, Drogo was busy with a horse and would not be joining her for the meal, or so she was told. She missed him already.

When Irri brought her supper, there was an extra bowl with it. Curious, Dany lifted the rough cloth covering it, and a wave of unexpected nausea overcame her at the smell. Holding one hand to her face to ward off the smell, she looked up at Irri just to make sure she didn't mistake what it was, and she pointed at it, asking, "I hope I'm not supposed to drink that?"

Irri smiled and nodded. "Khal Drogo wants you to start with the horse blood, Khaleesi. At the ceremony waiting for you in Vaes Dothrak, they will be expecting you to eat a stallion's heart. It's easier if the mother has already been preparing for it. Any Dothraki father who would claim the child will provide for the mother in this way to help her prepare."

Dany was speechless. Her mind went completely blank. _What? _Oh, Seven Hells, Irri was still talking.

"I . . . what? Stop. Start again," she stammered, trying to understand. "I'm supposed to eat _what?" _

"A stallion's heart, Khaleesi. The Khal will bring down the stallion in Vaes Dothrak, using a stone knife. He will cut the heart out and give it to you, and you must eat it. A strong and healthy heart for a strong and healthy boy," Irri sighed, slowing her words down and using mostly Dothraki to help her learn as well as understand.

A sinking feeling began in her throat and lodged itself in her gut. "Raw?" she asked stupidly, trying to wrap her mind around this information.

"Yes, Khaleesi," Irri smiled, and Dany could tell she was trying to hide her sympathy. Such emotions were useless in the grass.

Her stomach twisted in a sickening flip-flop, and she pushed her food away. Irri silently pushed the plate back at her and watched Dany pick at the food for a minute before speaking. "It helps to start with food already in the stomach, Khaleesi."

_Thirteen days from Vaes Dothrak, and I'm just finding this out now_, she thought. Irritation and fear were her overriding emotions, but curiosity soon rose above them. "Do all mothers have to do this?" she asked, eyeing the bowl.

"No, Khaleesi. Only ones who don't want to disappoint the fathers with daughters, and you are Khaleesi. It must be done."

Dany huffed at that. Nothing like flavoring the blood with a large helping of guilt. She eyed the bowl suspiciously. "Is there anything else I need to know about this 'preparation'?" she asked softly. "No other surprises, pleasant or otherwise?" She pulled it closer, and swirled the dark contents slightly, sending up a tangy, metallic scent into the air. She pulled back sharply for a moment, breathing deeply through her mouth to keep her queasiness at bay before taking another look. "What's in there?"

"Some raw horsemeat, Khaleesi. Heart is tough, this is practice to help you chew it," Irri informed her casually.

_She can't be serious. _One look at Irri proved otherwise_. I'm really going to have to do this?_ Her heart pounded so hard that she could hear it in her ears. She pushed the bowl back slightly, and looked again at her plate. _A bit of bread and meat would probably calm my stomach enough to at least make an attempt at this_, she reasoned. It can't be worse than . . . but she chased that thought out of her mind before allowing it to finish. She wasn't going to start remembering again. She mentally sat down on the box those memories lived in, securing it shut.

She ate slowly, ignoring the bowl next to her and Irri, who eventually left. After finishing her supper, she got up and wrapped a fur around her shoulders, reasoning that she was letting her food settle first, but rolled her eyes at her own procrastination and sat down again. She lifted the cloth and swirled the contents around a little, the chunks of raw meat dark and lumpy in the near black, congealing fluid. Her stomach roiled unhappily, but she took a deep breath and brought the bowl to her lips, taking a small sip. Cold, metallic, and thick, the blood clung to her tongue, slightly sweet, but more salty. Fresh. _At least there's that_, she thought sarcastically. She set the bowl down delicately, letting the taste swirl around in her mouth, warmed and thinned by her saliva. It did nothing to improve the flavor.

A cold sweat broke out down her back and across her face. Swallowing quickly, she took a deep breath, willing the nausea to disappear. After a few moments, it did, and she reached down to touch her growing bump. "I hope this is as good for you as the Dothraki believe," she murmured. "At least, I hope it's better for you than it tastes for me, my son."

She reached in the bowl with two fingers, figuring that instead of drinking it, she should just pick out a lump of meat and have a go. After trying in vain to pinch a piece out, the chunks of meat slippery and soft, she gave up and plunged her hand in and pulled out a piece. Before she could look at it or change her mind, she pushed it into her mouth and wiped her hand on the cloth that had covered the bowl.

The salt tang and thick syrupy texture gave way to a tough, fibrous object that no matter how she chewed it, it didn't seem to get any easier or bring her any closer to swallowing. Her stomach lurched, and she heaved a little, but managed to control it. _Maybe it would be better to eat this outside,_ she thought._ I could use some fresh air to keep this down. _She grabbed the bowl and headed outside, standing near her home, keeping one eye out for her brother as she chewed the unchangeable lump of salty, metallic meat. He would never understand why she was willing to try it, and it would be more trouble than it was worth to try to explain it to him.

After a few minutes, she began to realize that the more she chewed it, the bigger it seemed to be getting in her mouth. _How can it be slippery and tough at the same time?_ Sighing, she pulled it out of her mouth and threw it far away from the tents, knowing that the pack of wild dogs that followed the khalasar would get it. She hoped one of them could make more headway with it than she had, and selected another chunk of meat from the bowl. She held her breath as she popped it in her mouth, glad she brought the cloth out with her, because that piece she spit out immediately into it. It was slimy, definitely a different muscle cut than the first piece, and she wasn't prepared for that texture. She was glad she was outside, the fresh air indeed seemed to be helping to control her nausea. After a moment, she gathered herself and picked it out of the cloth and put it back in her mouth. It was tough, too.

By her fifth piece, she was able to figure out that she had to cut it with her teeth instead of just chewing it, and then she was able to swallow a few bits. Once she got past the first bite of each piece in her mouth, she found it wasn't too terrible, but with that first bite, blood would burst from the meat and that was the hard part. As she worried a piece in her mouth, she wondered what the entire ceremony would entail. She hoped Drogo would be there with her for the whole thing. She didn't want him to see her fail, but she knew she stood the best chance of keeping it down if he was there to concentrate her attention upon. She prodded around in the bowl to see if anything was left but blood. She was not going to drink it, she decided, and until Irri told her otherwise, she was going to view this as an exercise in chewing and building resistance in her stomach.

She washed at the basin that stood just outside the door to their home, taking care to wash her face and under her fingernails, before going off in search of which fire Drogo would be drinking at that night. She still had a piece of the horsemeat in her mouth, slowly working it between her front teeth to cut it down to a size she could swallow without gagging on it.

She walked along the camp, watching and searching. She saw Cohollo sitting at a fire with a group of young blood riders. She gestured to him, and called to him respectfully to ask where Drogo was, and Cohollo pointed back toward their home. She waved him off and started back the way she came, nearly running into him as she walked with her head down. He caught her up in his arms, and kissed her for a moment before pausing and pulling away from her, looking at her curiously. She grinned, and produced her raw chunk of horsemeat between her puckered lips for him to inspect. He let out a small burst of laughter at her face, and took her back to the basin, wiping up several spots of blood that she had missed. She laughed, and told him about how she'd been to Cohollo's fire already, so they must have seen what she was up to.

He grinned at her. "Not sick?" he asked, his hand resting lightly on her tummy as he did.

She smiled. "A little," she admitted. "Not bad after first bite." She demonstrated what she meant, and then used her teeth to cut the meat chunk in half before swallowing a little more. "I pretend it's cooked," she told him. "I trick my mind. Why am I learning about this thing only today?"

"Last night's meal went well, time to prepare for this," he said simply. _Last night's meal went well? Is that all he had to say about it? The meal or the exhibitionistic sex? _She flushed, a little embarrassed by how she had acted so wantonly. She cringed to think of what her brother would say. She did not see him at the fire, if he was there. She fervently hoped he wasn't.

He had been waiting for her early pregnancy sickness to pass, she realized, and it made sense to her. He had avoided her during the day because of it, she already knew that and had not taken it personally. Blood and guts, sure, but vomit seemed to be a 'no' for him. She snickered to herself, the mighty Khal Drogo undone by a bit of his wife's morning sickness. She wondered if his bloodriders gave him a hard time for it, and for the sake of her grisly surprise at supper, she almost hoped so. She touched her baby bump softly. She was past the early part. Her son was growing, and his time to be born was coming.

Drogo's hand came down to hers, holding his son for a moment. "I didn't think it was wise to tell you while you were sick," he muttered in her ear as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "I didn't want to invite more sickness on you."

"Well, it wasn't a happy surprise," she chided gently. "Warn me next time an unpleasant surprise is coming to me. Is this why I ate alone tonight? You didn't want to see me . . . "

"Fuck no!" he exclaimed.

She elbowed him sharply in the ribs, making him laugh. "Ass," she muttered irritably, but it only made him laugh more.

"My Khaleesi is getting strong," he remarked, pleased and proud. Her elbow jab was nothing, a brush of grass on the leg, but it was her tone and attitude he was enjoying.

"Good meat and fresh air," she admitted. "Happiness and a good horse."

He gave a satisfied sigh, took her hands and led her inside their home. He tucked her in his arms once they were safely inside, the braziers giving off enough warmth for him to tug the fur off her shoulders as he kissed her. He reached between them to unlace her vest, and took a step back to admire her bare breasts after he did. She smiled at his entranced expression, knowing her breasts were so much more sensitive and responsive in the slight chill. It was enough to change them dramatically, and he had most certainly noticed.

She backed up another step to unlace her pants and skirt, standing nude before his gaze, glad that he looked only at her as he was now, and happy that her body was for his eyes only. She felt no nervousness, no fear as she stood there for him to see, and she was happy to let him look as long as he wanted.

He grinned at her as he stepped out of his pants and tossed them into the pile of her clothes. "You are mine," he said softly, admiring the view.

"Yes," she agreed. "Only as you are mine."

"Yes," he answered, their relationship summed up fairly well with just that one word. He reached out for her and put his hand on her tummy. He never tired of touching her, feeling the baby growing within her. "My son."

"Yes," she whispered, but giggled when he poked at her gently, tickling her as he leaned down for a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

Drogo rolled over in the middle of the night, finding Dany laying on her back. He reached down and palmed her little bump and grinned. The bump was growing bigger, and was a struggle for her to tie her pants up and over their son now, so she quit trying. Once she had started showing, she seemed to be growing a bit more every day. It turned him on to watch her ride the silver, her little tummy poking out between her vest and pants, showing the world their baby.

She had been kept safely away from her brother for days now, and it was showing as much as her little bump; subtle, but obvious to a keen eye, and his were keen for only her. She smiled more, and her laugh was heartfelt and true, and her worried frown had completely disappeared. He noticed that her skin was more flushed, and the sun was kissing her face and arms delicately, little speckles everywhere the sun could touch. Her face was a bit rounder, showing better health, but also making her seem much younger. Sixteen years old, more than a child surely, but younger than he thought he would like in a wife. He wondered if the Magister had known earlier that Khal Drogo was looking for a wife, would he and Viserys have been so willing to give her away? Even at thirteen? Twelve? Honor would have made him turn her away at that age, he felt sure of it. But even as he imagined her being a little girl, that little Daenerys held a certain charm for him, too.

Sometimes, when she was walking or swimming, he could see the ghost of that child. Some of her movements were still that of a little girl, awkward and ungainly as a newborn foal, like when she was learning to ride the silver, or how she would bite her lip when thinking before speaking. It did odd things to him. He would feel a bit guilty, but so turned on that he couldn't help himself. The one thing that made his guilt disappear was that she was so eager and happy to be with him, completely unafraid of him now. He was making her happy. He smiled in the darkness, remembering that it was only a few moons past that she had been sleeping in her own tent, curled up and crying instead of being sprawled out next to him, her arm flung over his chest in her quest for his touch.

He knew she would be happy in her home in Vaes Dothrak. It was much bigger than the tent, and it was dug out of the side of a large mound of earth, offering cool darkness even on the hottest days. The bed was larger than the one they had here, and had a solid frame instead of rope slats across a light frame. He was looking forward to that bed and her in it. Breezes swept up from the lake and kept the air fresh in the valley, the grass stayed green all year at the base of the Mother of the Mountains. There was a market place full of traveling traders, something different with every caravan. He planned on showing her off to everyone, and he would be the envy of every man in Vaes Dothrak.

He thought about the ceremony waiting for her, and for him. He had mounted thousands of women, but had never claimed an unborn child as his own. This would be a test for him, too. He had to hunt down and kill one of the wild stallions with just a fucking stone knife and a rope. Steel and bloodshed between men were both forbidden in the city, so he would have to master the skill of stone before arriving. His practice just that evening proved to be less troublesome than he thought it would be, and he was able to provide her with her first preparation for her part in the ceremony. He hoped he wouldn't fuck it up on the day he needed to put the still warm heart in her hands for her to eat.

If she weren't pregnant, he would still need to present her to the Dosh Khaleen, the women of Vaes Dothrak, the widowed khaleesis that were now the leaders of their great and vast city. If he were to fall in battle, Daenerys would immediately be taken back to Vaes Dothrak by her _khas_ to join them before she could be harmed. It was a sobering thought, his Daenerys widowed and abandoned to the women of Vaes Dothrak while she was still so young. If his son was under four, he would be left out for the wild dogs to eat lest he become a threat in his quest for revenge later. Drogo suddenly promised his sleeping wife that he would take extra care with his life. He wanted many, many more years of sleeping next to her like this.

He reached out and touched her belly again, stroking her silky soft skin tenderly, feeling the contours of her body. It startled him when her hand moved to rest on top of his, clutching his fingers tightly with hers. "Sleep," she murmured. "Plenty of time to touch him later. Wait until I'm huge and can't sit on a horse, we'll see how much you want me then," she teased.

He couldn't tell if she was actually teasing, or if there was a hint of true concern in her sleep husky voice. "I want you now," he answered. "I will want you then, and when you're pregnant with our next child, and the next, Daenerys. You are the Moon of my Life. I'm fucking excited to see you that big."

She snorted and rolled to face him. "Not going to be my favorite part," she said honestly.

He looked at her, surprised. "What, then?"

She smiled. "I want to hold him," she said simply, not sure if her words could really tell him the emotion behind them. Her baby. Hers. His. Their baby was growing in her womb. It was still a little surprising to her, this little baby that was no longer a hypothetical idea. She was going to be someone's mother, and for once in her life, Viserys had nothing to do with it, nor a place in her life.

He grinned and nodded. "Me, too," he answered, then turned serious. "Don't allow anyone else to get him before you do. You are his mother, and after he is born, you hold him as long as you want before you pass him over to the midwife, _as long as you want, _Daenerys, and then get him back again immediately. No one else for the first days," he instructed, bringing a finger under her chin to get her to look at him. "You don't share him with anyone unless you want to. No one has rights to him but you and me. He will be the Khal of Khals, and he needs his mother, not whoever happens to have milk for a baby. He is ours, not the khalasar's."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes," she answered, relieved. She had worried about that, seeing new babies being passed from one mother to the next, whichever nursing mother holding the hungry infant would feed him or her. It didn't even seem to matter who was feeding who's baby, and it had caused her worry and concern. She didn't want to give her little boy up to this Dothraki custom; he was her son, the blood of dragons, and she wanted him only at her breast.

"Drogo," she whispered, and pulled him to her for a kiss.

He held her as they kissed for a while, but then tucked her down onto his chest. "Sleep, Khaleesi. Long ride tomorrow, with only one short rest, so sleep and be strong tomorrow. I will tell the midwife your wishes."

She sighed then, wishing she had words to thank him for his concern. "Drogo, your words make me happy," she whispered.

He grunted in question, so she struggled for a moment before putting the words together. "About our son. Your word is law. Make it as you said to me, and I will be happy," she explained, using the best words she had to describe her feelings.

He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Tomorrow, before we leave, it will be done," he said, then kissed her forehead. "Sleep."

. . . . . .

Drogo laid awake despite his urgings for Daenerys to sleep, holding her tightly to his chest, his precious, precious girl. He wondered when the fuck he had gotten so possessive, so obsessed over a woman. _When I married her. She is everything_. His son was not going to be passed along to every woman with milk in her tits. His son belonged at his wife's breast alone. It hadn't occurred to him that she had worried about it. No more. He would tell the small band of midwives in the morning. Whoever Daenerys liked the most and felt the most at ease with would be the one to attend the birth of the Khal of Khals.

He would be not allowed to be with her while she was birthing anyway, so it was entirely up to her how she wanted this done, who she wanted there, and where she would have the baby. He would be pushed out the door and sent far away from her when her time came, sent to his bloodriders for feasting and entertainment. It was already being planned, this celebration, and it was shaping up to be bigger than any birth feast he'd ever been to. He would send Irri to help her understand it. Among the few things her brother did right in his lifetime was provide her with handmaidens who could speak both Dothraki and her Common Tongue.

He imagined what she would look like with a soon to term pregnant belly, and he groaned as his cock immediately sprung to life. This was either going to be a very long night for him, or he could nudge her awake quickly for a few minutes, and then they both could sleep. He thought about it, then gently shifted her over to her side facing away from him. He thought she was asleep until she started giggling and reached around to grab him. He groaned aloud and pressed his hips forward into her hand, and she sighed as she guided him to her.

He barely lasted four thrusts into her, moaning her name and spilling deeply into her, but he used his fingers to make up for it, touching and enjoying her climax as he withdrew from her long before he was ready. _Would it always be this way? _He didn't know, and didn't mind it. His Khaleesi enjoyed him as much as he enjoyed her, what else was there in life? A good fight, a good woman, and a son on the way. Life was very, very good, indeed.

* * *

I KNOW I'm a bit over the top in the detail oriented category, but a story that has only big action in it relies too much on the readers to know all the _other_ things going on around that action, and I want this to be clear for people who haven't read the books and are missing some pretty amazing things. Of course, a lot of what I'm writing happens only in my head, between chapters, between episodes, but there just had to be so much more going on besides what was written and shown in the show for them to have progressed so much in such a short amount of time. I can't possibly buy the "Stockholm Syndrome" theory that's bouncing around about Dany and Drogo. Heck, in A Dance With Dragons, **SPOILER** Dany sits on the throne in Meereen and pulls her hrakkar pelt around her shoulders and thinks about how much she misses Drogo. Yeah, not bloody likely Stockholm Syndrome.

Ok, I'm going to take a SHORT break from my stories. Like, a week or so, I promise. Life is strange and not very pleasant at the moment, but the future is never the same as the present as long as we take control of our actions and change it.


	12. Chapter 12

The last few nights and days of the journey blended together, riding and making love more than eating or sleeping. Dany was relieved the last night, sitting out at the fire and surrounded by people. There were drums and some of the women were dancing erotically for the men. She leaned back in her favorite spot, on the ground and between Drogo's bent legs, the back of her head resting on his chest as he drank and ate. Only a day's ride left, Drogo planned on entering the city before the sky began to darken, so there would be time for all the people in Vaes Dothrak to see Khal Drogo's Khaleesi.

She was nervous about the heart ceremony. She had been practicing her words for it with Irri and Doreah every evening while she bathed, and had been consuming the 'gifts' that Drogo left with them every evening before she would come out and join him for her supper. She had been fasting the past two days, though, in order to make sure the heart would stay down when she ate it. To vomit or spit any part of it out would be an ill omen indeed, and the Khal of Khals could be born defective or even worse, a girl. She didn't want to disappoint the Khal with a female child, though she personally would love her and care for her the same as she would a son, it would shame him, and his khalasar wouldn't be viewed as the strongest any longer.

She watched as more and more women began their dances of seduction, enthralled with the idea of it. Would Drogo want her to dance? She didn't know if it would please him or make him angry to have her dance for him in front of everyone. She sat quietly and watched, eyes fixed on Doreah as she danced for her young bloodrider husband, but he was busy watching another woman dance, too. Immediately, she decided she wouldn't dance. She didn't want to see Drogo's eyes watching another woman while she danced for him. She felt indifferent to it now, seated safely with him, not caring that he watched while she was in his arms.

Her hand drifted to his knee, resting lightly on him. He was nervous, too, about his part in the ceremony and he was very distracted. He had barely spoken to her all day, not since he kissed her after withdrawing from her body that morning. "The morning shines on you," he had said softly, but then was dressed and gone before she was even out of bed. How many children had he fathered and not claimed? How many were in the khalasar right now? She had begun looking at the young children with new eyes since learning he had never claimed an unborn child for his own; how many of her baby's siblings were out there? It made her sad, but at the same time, her baby was the first. It made her want him even more, but she was so tired. Tired and hungry. She closed her eyes as the dancers moved, the drums soothing in her ears as she drifted off.

She woke as Drogo attempted to pick her up as he stood. He was drunk, she could tell right away, and she patted him to let her down. He grunted at her, and picked her up anyway. She panicked for a moment, unused to him jostling her quite so much when he carried her to bed, but realized he wouldn't drop her. She hung on to his neck tightly, and let him carry her to the tent. He plopped her down on the bed playfully, and she gasped out before she breathed a sigh of relief. He'd only dropped her a few inches into the soft cushions.

She barely had time to scoot out of the way before he landed heavily next to her, still clothed. She huffed at him softly, and began unlacing his pants. His hand immediately was on the back of her neck, pushing her face down to his hardening cock as his hips rose to meet her. Subtlety is not part of this life, she thought, rolling her eyes and smiling. She licked at him delicately at first, teasing him, but he grabbed her hair and forced her head down. She grabbed him by the wrist and gripped it as hard as she could, and gently let him feel her teeth as a warning to let her go. He released her immediately, but thrust upward into her mouth, wanting her to continue.

After, she rolled over, relieved that she would get some sleep. Her empty stomach made her so tired, and he was getting more demanding at night. She was willing to go along with it and enjoyed every moment, but she really wanted to sleep and get some rest. She sighed and closed her eyes, but his large hand crept around her hips and touched her bump, caressing her softly. She realized they weren't done yet as he pushed his recovered arousal against her hip. She made to turn toward him, but he grabbed her hips and hefted her up onto her hands and knees with practiced ease.

"_Affa_," he groaned out softly, feeling her anxiety about this position as she became tense and quiet. He hadn't attempted this since the night she had touched his face, preferring to have her in his lap. He stroked a hand up her spine as he thrust into her quickly, making her gasp. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't particularly pleasant, either. He was going too deep, it didn't feel right.

"Slowly," she begged him. "It's not good."

"No?" he moaned out. "So good." He reached around and touched her then, stroking her softly at first, but as his need mounted, his touch got harder and rougher, trying to get her to catch up to him. It didn't feel good, so she bit her lip and tried so hard, so hard, to arch her back against him to change the angle, but he was too far gone, moaning out and spilling into her with a deep thrust that made her whole belly flare up in a deep ache. He leaned over her then, his hands resting on the bed next to hers. He kissed her shoulder blades, up her back to the back of her neck as he withdrew from her.

Her body ached and throbbed, but not with a need for release. She wiped her tears, not wanting him to know he'd hurt her. He turned her over easily in his arms and tucked her in tightly next to him as he lay down on the bed. She turned away from him, but pressed against him to not cause him worry. The skin between her thighs was sticky and wet, and she moved so it wouldn't be so uncomfortable, tossing one leg over both Drogo's. His hand immediately came down to touch her again, thinking he could make her come, but she flinched and pushed his hand away with a tiny whimper.

"What's this?" he whispered, sounding surprised.

"No more," she whimpered quietly. "I hurt."

He pushed his hand into hers. "Show me."

She took his hand and pushed it down over her belly, down to where he had penetrated her, then back up to her belly. "Everywhere," she whispered. He was quiet next to her for a moment, then got up and pulled his pants on. He tossed her dressing gown to her, and motioned for her to put it on. She stood to tie the little ribbons in the front, and he scooped her up in his arms again, and carried her outside. She kept her head tucked into his chest, trying to will herself better. She opened her eyes and looked around as he ducked into another tent.

Brightly lit and warm inside, she had no trouble figuring out where she was. The midwives tent. He put her down on her feet and spoke only a few words before one of the women was guiding her to sit on the bed and another was pushing Drogo out the door. She couldn't help but cry a little as he made eye contact with her before he was shoved outside and gone. He looked so . . . . regretful despite still being very drunk.

Dany had been subjected to that kind of examination only one other time in her life, but it wasn't so embarrassing now. The Magister had ordered an old woman to her bedroom one afternoon to confirm her virginity before she married the Khal. That had been unexpected and completely humiliating. This wasn't nearly so much, the woman kind and gentle as she carefully prodded and examined her before smiling and nodding at her, patting her kindly on the knee.

"Have you felt your baby move yet, Khaleesi?" the woman asked softly.

"I _think_ so," Dany answered her. "But I'm not sure."

"It may just be too early to feel yet," the midwife said gently. "The baby was not disturbed, the bleeding is from outside your womb. You will drink a tea to help you feel better. Just rest and drink." She was helped up to sit, and another woman brought the hot bowl of steeped herbs.

Dany sat quietly on the comfortable bed and drank her tea obediently, enjoying the honey and minty taste of it. She took her time, hoping Drogo would be less drunk when she came out again. Another of the women came in the tent, smiling and tired, a new baby and mother to ride in a cart in the morning. Dany smiled, too. No cart for her. She would be at home in Vaes Dothrak when it came time to have her son.

The women talked for a few moments, most of the words Dany didn't know or understand. She sighed in frustration, but drank her warm drink and looked around the tent. Dried herbs hung in clumps from every lashing on the structure, water skins and gourds piled near the edges to make room for a few beds and sleeping mats. The woman who had handled her so gently came back and sat next to her, and Dany made to pass the wooden bowl back, but the woman took the bowl and her hand, too. "You're not frightened, child?" she asked slowly.

Dany smiled at that. "No, I've had worse to fear in my life, and I am no child," she answered.

"If our Khal wants his son, he must be gentler with you," she said softly. "I'm Athi. I will tell him, but you must make him understand. That is why we won't wash you here. Let him see the danger."

"He had too much to drink. He's never been so rough . . . " she trailed off.

"It could harm you both," she warned gently. "You're still such a young woman, no, not a child," she assured her when Dany looked up at her quickly. "Not a child, but your body will grow more still. Go home and rest. Tomorrow is the last day we ride, and you will get to rest more after tonight. I will look in on you in Vaes Dothrak if you like," she offered.

Dany smiled and nodded. "I would tell you how how to find me, but . . . I don't know which home is mine," she admitted.

Athi laughed, such a friendly and happy sound to Dany's ears. "I know which house is Khal Drogo's," she assured her. "We've often wondered when one of us would be useful there."

After a few minutes of just sitting on the bed, Dany was drifting off to sleep, the ache in her belly slowly disappearing. She jerked awake suddenly, and Athi offered to walk her back to the Khal. After a grateful but polite refusal, Dany stuck out on her own, confident she could find her tent on her own. She stepped out into the darkness, and began to walk.

As she walked, she began to realize just how big the khalasar really was. Tents and fires were everywhere, the great tent no where to be seen, all the faces around her unfamiliar, staring, many of them getting a good look at their Khaleesi for the first time. A few faces smiled, most remained neutral, some openly scowled at her as she walked, and the longer she walked, the more frightened she became.

She realized that she was walking a lot longer than it took for Drogo to take her to the midwives, and she knew that she was lost amid the sea of people, some openly angry with her for reasons she couldn't know. It was enough to keep her from asking for help as she walked, but she kept her head up and looked around for the safety of her home. She quickened her pace, and tried to keep control of her rising panic. It tasted like the horse blood in her mouth.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, and she bit back as scream as she turned to strike the offending hand's owner, only to have Rhakaro gently deflect her other hand with his free one. "You're far from home, Khaleesi," he said softly, soothing her as her tears started to fall. "Come." He took her hand and then touched the handle of his arakh with one finger. "No one will harm you, blood of my blood."

He led her across camp the way she had come, and directly to the Khal's tent. "You see? Safe now. Sleep, Khaleesi. Tomorrow we ride to Vaes Dothrak."

She stopped at the entrance. "Rhakaro . . . " she started.

"Khaleesi," he grinned, and turned and walked away.

"Thank you," she whispered to herself in the Common Tongue, then ducked back into her home.

Drogo was sitting on the bed, shifting one of his knives from one hand to the other, waiting. He looked up at her as she entered, and she smiled softly at him. She undid her dressing gown and let the soft silk fall to the carpet, rendering her nude to him once more. She took a deep breath as he gasped at her body, the blood on her legs causing a painful look to cross his features. She gathered her courage and her words. "Be gentle with me," she whispered softly, pleading with him. "I want your son to live."

He was instantly on his feet, and gathering her in his arms, kissing her face and neck in soft whisper touches of his lips barely grazing her skin. He settled her in the bed and laid next to her, holding her gently against his chest. It was as close to an apology as he had words to give. "You are not hurt?"

"No, not truly. I was scared, and there was pain, but our son is fine," she assured him, talking more to his chest than his face. "I don't have pain anymore."

He sighed deeply, and threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking her scalp tenderly as he kissed her hair. She stroked his chest lightly, trying to soothe him as much as he was trying to do the same for her. He soon got up and stood over her in the bed, conflict flickering in his eyes. Sighing softly, he went to the copper washbasin and dropped a cloth in the warm water, the brazier below still red with coals. He wrung out the cloth and brought it to her, pressing it gently into her hands as he kissed her on the forehead.


	13. Chapter 13

I've had a request to do chapter 12 from Drogo's point of view, and since it won't sidetrack me in any way from the story I want to tell . . . here's my version of a Khal STRESSIN' bigtime. Here you go, Slasher91 ;)

* * *

Drogo was getting more and more anxious the closer they got to Vaes Dothrak. He was in a hurry to get there and get Daenerys settled into their home. In just a matter of weeks, she had gone from having a little bump the size of an apple to one the size of a small orange melon, bigger than his hand clasped around his fist. She seemed fine besides being tired a lot, but he as anxious to get her home so she could relax and just concentrate on counting her days before their son was born.

He practiced every night on bringing down another horse with just his rope and the stone knife Cohollo had shown him how to use. He could not fail her, this being the ultimate test to prove he could be a good husband and father. He needed to provide for his Khaleesi, and ensure his son would be born strong and whole. She was doing her part, her handmaidens reporting back to him that the fresh blood and clean cuts of meat were being consumed until two nights ago, and he knew that Dany's intention was to fast to make sure her body wouldn't betray them both and reject the heart.

He sat and enjoyed the entertainment and food the last night on the road. Women were dancing, and a great amount of meat was being passed around for the last meal of the night, some parts of it the horse he had brought down just hours before. Dany sat in her favorite place between his spread thighs, the back of her head resting on his chest. He had given up urging her to eat, seeing the stubborn set of her jaw when he would try to push food into her hands, or a small bite into her mouth. He had tried, privately in their home, to _make_ her eat, and was glad that no one had seen him lose a fight to a young girl.

The lack of food was making her a bit listless, though, so he was content to just hold her and let her be comfortable in his arms. She was already dressed for bed, and he could tell she'd had a bath; the sensual scents of spiceflowers and cinnamon wafted up from her hair and skin for his pleasure. He reached out and touched the skin on her neck softly, and managed to keep his smile to himself as he felt the oil from Irri's massage still clinging to her. _Good. She's being well cared for when I'm not around. I just have to get this done. __Worrying about it won't change it_, he reasoned with himself suddenly. _The sooner we get there, we can get this over with and things will be all right again. _Drogo took a long drink of his _lamekh_, his horn never empty as he repeatedly held it out to be refilled. Tonight, his thoughts were getting the best of him, and he needed the drink to keep his head from becoming too busy. He didn't want to fail her. He didn't want to fail his entire khalasar with this task. Everything was riding on his shoulders to make this happen, and then on Daenerys' shoulders to keep it down. He had seen more men fail to bring down the stallion than he had seen women be unsuccessful in eating the heart. _I am fucking Khal Drogo. I have never been defeated. There is no man or beast that has evaded me. I will do this thing, and I will do it well. _The assertion did nothing to make his mind shut up.

He felt Daenerys put her little hand on his knee, seeming to know his thoughts. Her gesture soothed him immensely, quieting his mind, the warmth of her hand seeping into him as surely as the drink. He looked down at her, but her eyes were on the dancing women. He looked past her lovely face down to the bulge hiding under her clothes. He avoided looking at her during the day, her pregnant belly gearing him up so often that it would surely add another day onto this trip if he gave in to her charms every time he looked her way. He knew that she had noticed, but her disappointment would have to wait to be soothed once they reached home.

He watched her for a moment, her eyes locked onto her girl from Lys, dancing for her husband. The stupid fool was watching another woman, though. He couldn't believe it. He hoped she would leave his stupid ass. He remembered not caring about which woman was who, but now . . . there was only one, and she was touching him. If Daenerys were to dance for him, he knew his eyes would fail to see the world burning to the ground around them. He held out his horn again for more drink. He could not fail her.

He was good and drunk by the time he realized his Khaleesi had long since been asleep, her head heavy and nodding on his chest as he held her. He stood up, swaying, and made to pick her up and carry her to bed like he did every night they spent out at the fire, but he slipped a little. She batted lightly at his hands, wordlessly asking him to let her walk herself. _Fuck no, I can at least do this part right,_ he thought, and picked her up again. He somehow managed to keep the swirling ground under his feet and made it into the tent, letting her go as soon as he was over the bed and knew she wouldn't be hurt. Gripped by spinning air, he flopped down in the bed next to her, missing her by a mere breath. _Shit, too close_. He watched her as she quickly discarded her clothes, and her rounded belly caused an immediate ache in his groin that he did not intend to ignore.

She was suddenly bending over him, unlacing his pants, so he seized his opportunity, guiding her to him. _Fuck, she's got a beautiful mouth_._ I want that mouth on me. _He pushed her down onto him and groaned out at the feel of her. He couldn't stop his hips from thrusting up at her, either. She pushed back at him. _What the fuck is she doing? Oh no, you're staying right . . . ow. Teeth. _He let her go, and she quickly sank down onto him, taking him deep into her throat with a hum. It was over quickly as she pulled back again, and fluttered her tongue against him before sinking back down on him once more.

Leaving him panting and wondering how the fuck it had happened so fast, she rolled over and pressed her back against his side in an invitation to hold her. Oh, he would do more than hold her. He reached around and caressed her belly, feeling the firm bulge of his son, his cock immediately aching for her again. He knew he wouldn't have the coordination to hold her in his lap, so he quickly flipped her over onto her hands and knees. This he could do, and do very well, no matter how much he'd had to drink.

He felt every muscle in her body tense up. "Affa," he whispered to her, hushing her soothingly and trying to get her to relax. She would know how good this could feel by the time he was done here. He rubbed his palm up her back as he pushed into her heat, and didn't even try to restrain his moan at the hot tight feel of her. He pulled back slightly, and then thrust forward again, rougher than he intended to, but she arched her back under him, so he took that to mean it was all right. He closed his eyes against the exquisite feel of her rocking hips, and held her tighter against him, letting what was left of his control slip as he began to thrust into her harder.

She said something, he wasn't sure what, nor was he sure what he replied with, but he realized she wouldn't be able to come if he didn't touch her, so reaching around her, he played with her gently with just two fingers. He wasn't going to fail her in this, at least. She shifted under him again, not making a sound, and he knew then, _knew_ that it wasn't working, so he began to rub her more firmly, using nearly the same pressure as he was thrusting into her. Fuck . . . oh fuck, he could feel it burning in him, and he let it go, pushing so far forward into her that he met resistance, and heard her whimper quietly into her pillows as he came, hard, and groaned out as he withdrew from her, flopping back onto the bed in a drunken heap.

He was vaguely aware of her shifting around in the bed, and it sounded as though she were sniffling a bit. The thought of her getting sick now rose a panic in him, and he reached for her again. Even a cold right now wouldn't be good for his son. She wiggled around a bit, then settled on her back, one leg flung carelessly over his. He took it as an invitation to make it up to her. He trailed his fingers delicately up her leg and to her center, _she's so wet_, but she grabbed his hand and pushed it away. "No more," she whimpered at him. "I hurt."

His heart thumped sickeningly in his chest. "Show me," he whispered, nudging his hand into hers for her to guide him. He held his breath as her hand placed his on her belly, then down further, down to where he had taken his pleasure, and then back up to her belly, resting right over their son. He forced himself to breathe, _I hurt her, oh gods, I hurt her_, and then panicked quietly for a moment._ My son_. He got up and quickly put his pants on, tossing her warm dressing gown over to her for her to put on. She took it up quietly, and her slight grimace of pain as she stood up didn't go unnoticed. Neither did the dark stain between her legs. He dared not look down at his own hand, instead scooping her up in his arms and walking as quickly as he could go to the midwives tent.

The women looked up in surprise to see him as he burst into their large tent. "She's hurt," he said, and put her down delicately onto her feet. _Fuck, I'm still drunk,_ he realized. He felt sick. _Daenerys_. _I hurt my Daenerys._

One of the younger ones answered him, but he couldn't figure out what she was saying until she was pushing him out the door. "We will do what we can," she said, and he turned in time to meet Daenerys' eyes. Tears were streaming down her face silently, and he felt a physical pain in his heart. The tent flap closed, and he was left standing outside, alone, one hand pressing onto his chest. He looked down, blood on his hand, and quickly looked around. No one had seen him. The midwives usually camped a distance from everyone else to keep loudly birthing women from being a disturbance to the khalasar at night.

He wandered for a while, then went to the nearby stream to throw water on his body to sober up. He rinsed his hands, letting Dany's blood flow down the stream and away from his guilt. He shook his head, and took in a great long drink of the water. Slowly, he made his way back home, and waited. He lit a few more of the candles around the tent, bringing more light and warmth for her when she returned. He pulled out a knife and stroked it over his whetstone, sharpening the blade, taking care to not count the passes as he waited, the sweet scent of beeswax pleasant and soothing as he worked.

After what felt like half the night was gone, he heard voices approaching. Rhakaro, one of Daenerys' khas, and then the sweet sound of her voice as she called his name before saying something in her Common Tongue. He wanted to go to her, but decided to just wait where he was, to see what she would do when she came back inside her home. _Will she fear me now? Will she even talk to me? I'm such a fucking shit husband._

He breathed in a deep sigh of relief when she looked directly at him and smiled softly, his fears melting away with just that sweet smile, only to have them all rise again as she undid her gown and let it fall onto one of the many thick carpets used in their home. Blood was still slick on her thighs, dark and more horrific to him than any slain man or beast he had seen. His eyes moved back up to hers, unable to bear looking any longer. "Be gentle with me," she said softly, reaching out toward him. "I want your son to live."

He had her in his arms before he could register what was happening, kissing her face and neck tenderly in a promise to never be rough with her again. He held her for a few moments, relieved and comforted by her warmth and her arms wrapped snugly around his neck as he kissed her. _Thank fuck, she still wants me_. He settled back into the bed with her in his arms, hoping she could feel his regret at hurting her. He certainly hadn't meant to. "You're not hurt?" he asked softly.

"No, not truly. I was scared, and had pain, but our son is fine," she answered. He could hear unshed tears in her voice. "I don't hurt anymore."

He heaved a sigh of relief, then clutched her close to him again, running his fingers through her hair. He held her tightly against his chest, trying to tell her how much she meant to him, she is everything, and he kissed her head softly as she ran her fingers over his chest. It felt good to have her against him again, even though she'd only been gone a few hours. _We need to get you cleaned up_, he thought to himself. _I don't want to leave this moment, but I want to take care of you._

He gently extracted himself from her arms and went to the washbasin near the foot of their bed and dropped a clean cloth into the warm water. It smelled like it had been sweetened with some sort of perfume for her, one he recognized by the scent of lemons and flowers. Mentally shrugging, he squeezed water out of the cloth and went to her. _Should I do it, or just let her do it? I don't think I can look, I'll let her do it._ He pressed the cloth into her hands, and kissed her as she sat up to wash away the violence to her body._ Never fucking again,_ he thought.

He waited patiently for her to finish, and then gathered her into his arms again, letting her shift around until she was comfortable before relaxing back into the bed. He kissed her softly, and rested his hand on his son. "Does he move yet for you?" he asked quietly.

"You're the second person to ask me today," she answered. "But I don't think so. I don't know what to feel for."

He patted her tummy gently. "Soon," he whispered. "He will move soon for you." He kissed her ear, and held her tightly against him.

* * *

Healed is coming along much more slowly than I anticipated. I'm a bit stuck, but I haven't forgotten it, I promise. This one, I have a guide and a timeline to follow, but we're so far gone past any timeline or sequence of events for Dany and Drogo in Healed that I'm struggling to make it all fit together in a way that keeps up with the quality of the story. What this boils down to is . . . I want it to be perfect, dammit. LOL!


	14. Chapter 14

Any and all parts that can be recognized as Game of Thrones, either show or book, are not mine and belong solely to their respective artists. I do not claim their intellectual property, I only borrow it to have a skeleton, of sorts, for my story.

* * *

Dany mounted her silver mare and took her place in the khalasar. Today was the day. Early evening would find her riding into Vaes Dothrak, to _home. _She was nervous and excited, but rode quietly with her khas and Ser Jorah. She was glad Rhakaro stayed close to her side as Drogo rode ahead.

The flat grasslands were behind them, replaced by gently rolling hills of green grass and low trees. She teasingly asked Irri if they were indeed trees, or yet another type of grass. "No, most are _halahi, _flowering trees, and are pretty in spring," Irri responded with a smile.

As they rode, she could see Drogo and his closest riders starting to ascend a hill, the path twisting like a snake in the grass. She watched as they began to reach the top, suddenly seeing two horses rearing at each other as they approached. They were enormous, carved out of stone, and were so lifelike that Dany was taken aback at how art like that could have found it's way to such a rough and wild place. She looked around. The two massive horses were obviously a gate to the city, but there were no walls. Just the horses, a beacon to call the Dothraki home. Drogo and his riders rode ahead, breaking their horses into a swift gallop and whooping as they ran for the city, preparing everyone for the khalasar's arrival.

She kept her horse to a brisk walk, Ser Jorah and her brother Viserys riding up next to her as they reached the massive gateway. She stopped, watching her husband ride ahead before turning her attention to first the stone horses looming above her, and then to Vaes Dothrak in the valley below. Dany warily let Viserys ride up to her, but kept out of his physical range. She didn't care so much if he hit her, but he was not going to get a chance to harm her unborn baby boy.

"Vaes Dothrak," Ser Jorah announced, stopping next to her. "Home of the horselords."

"Nothing but piles of mud. Mud and shit and twigs. Is that the best these savages can do?" her brother sneered, disgusted.

"These are my people now," she retorted, getting annoyed and letting him hear it. "You shouldn't call them savages."

"I'll call them what I like because they're _my_ people," he answered, escalating his tone to overpower hers. "This is my army. Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way with my army."

Dany turned her head slightly and rolled her eyes. His complaints were such a tiresome and repetitive mantra that Dany began to wonder if he would ever say anything else. It was like trying to reason with a 2 year old. She sighed and nudged her mare to start walking again, following Viserys as he rode ahead, letting the distance between them become greater the closer they got to the city.

She spoke quietly with Ser Jorah, airing her doubts that her brother could take back their throne, even with all of Drogo's men behind him. He didn't know how to lead, or how to rule. Jorah agreed with her, just as quietly. She sighed in despair as she realized that this whole endeavor was for naught, except she had managed to find happiness despite all her brother's abuses and grand intentions. She rested her hand on her growing bump. Her son was doubly a gift to her in that moment, and she smiled despite the discouraging conversation. She felt torn, though. She wanted to take her rights as the Queen of Westeros, her birthright, but at the same time, she managed to find her place with Drogo, and her new home in Vaes Dothrak. Dany found herself having difficulty reconciling the two. _Am I as restless as Viserys? Can I be happy with being Drogo's wife and a mother? What of my home, Dragonstone? Should I just let all of it go? _She sighed heavily as she pushed her worries from her mind.

A low, mud wall bordered just outside the first dwellings, and several slaves stood there, waiting. Ser Jorah stopped, as did all her _khas, _and she watched as all the men handed over their weapons. "No steel blades are allowed in the city, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah explained. "We will get them back when we leave again, with no mistakes over whose weapon belongs with whom. You will see."

She smiled softly at the slaves, but they all immediately looked down at the ground, the stones and sand suddenly much more interesting than the face of their Khaleesi. She quickly unbuckled her belt and handed over the small blade that Drogo had cleverly sheathed in it a few days after Viserys had blackened her eye. She loved that little knife, the steel folded and swirled in pretty patterns all the way to it's razor sharp edge. Drogo had sharpened it until he could shave a line of hair off his arm with it, letting her watch as he slid the blade lightly along his skin. A slave stepped forward and took it gently from her, never touching her, but briefly looked at her face, memorizing who the blade belonged to as she rode by.

Following the road, she was taken aback by all the statues. She looked at Jorah for help. "Broken images of gods from defeated cities," Ser Jorah said, answering her unasked question. Dany pulled her silver mare up a little so she could take a longer look. Giant rams, even larger women with wings, and various other fantastical creatures met her interested gaze. All were broken, missing limbs or faces. Except for one at the very end of the long road. Dany stopped her horse completely to look. A woman carved out of a bright white stone, one arm cradling a tiny baby to her breast, the other wrapped securely around an older child at her side. Her eyes were inlaid with precious stones, and someone had draped a handwoven grass cloak around her shoulders. Dany became aware of the offerings laid down around her feet and on the ground below the large block of stone she was standing on. Many were simple beeswax candles, but there were spiceflowers and various small objects as well.

"Who is she?" Dany whispered softly. "She's not broken."

"She is the symbol of motherhood, Khaleesi. Many come here to pray for sons. The Dothraki believe that this is an image of the woman who was the Great Stallion's Khaleesi so long ago," Jorah explained.

"Should I leave something?" she wondered out loud.

"If you like. If for no other reason, your khas will tell Khal Drogo that you had stopped here on your own and gave a gift. It would please him greatly, Khaleesi," Jorah offered in counsel.

She smiled at that, and turned to look in her saddle pack. She took out an amethyst stone pendant edged in silver, a bride gift, and dismounted. She looked up at the woman and smiled, and slowly placed the precious object at the statue's feet. "For my son," she said softly in Dothraki. She remounted her horse and she could feel the grins of her khas and Ser Jorah as she rode ahead of them all, coming to the city alone and of her own free will.

As she rode into the city, she was met by Cohollo and Jhogo, and they escorted her to Khal Drogo's home, amidst a sea of watching people. She made sure to keep her smile to herself, and focus on the road ahead, as she was taught to do, following her part in the tradition as Cohollo gently lifted her down off her mare in front of the house, announcing Khal Drogo's ascent to the Mother on the Mountain for a sacrifice for the khalasar's safe return. She answered him with the words Irri had carefully taught her, that she would patiently wait for him at home and dream of his return. Her maids came out of the house at that point, standing and waiting in front of the wooden latticework entry as Jhogo quickly untied her saddle pack from her silver mare and handed it to her to carry into her new home, signifying her status as Khal Drogo's wife.

She placed her saddle pack just inside the door and took her time to explore her new home, looking around her with eyes that missed little. The walls were not straight; they curved upward in a rounded slant, and she couldn't tell where the walls ended and ceiling began. She touched the molded clay of the walls, running her hands up and down the smooth, dark surface. She liked it. There were woven grass screens dividing the rooms; they smelled like fresh summer mornings. Her familiar low table was fitted into the center of a larger one, and dozens of cushions decorated the large space for eating and comfortably entertaining guests. There was a fire pit and opening in the ceiling directly above it, hot coals buried and waiting nightfall. She wandered back into a dark room, and Irri followed her, lighting candles. The bed was big, nearly twice the size of the bed in their tent, and all her blankets, furs, clothes, and gifts were already there, some unpacked, others put away to be brought out as needed. She smiled, and sat down on the bed. Firm, she noticed right away, but soft, too. She reached under the thick mattress, and felt the permanence of the frame. This wouldn't be breaking in a hurry, she laughed to herself in relief. She was becoming concerned for the bed in the tent and all the rough use it had managed to withstand the past few months. She smiled as she looked around, the air cool and dry despite the day's heat outside. This would be a fine place to have a baby, a good place to call home.

An overwhelming sense of _home_ settled over her as she sat on the bed and looked around. It smelled good; beeswax candles, incense, fires, grass and the earthen walls all lending their essences to her home. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. She looked at all her trunks and boxes, all stacked in perfect order, and saw something new, tucked back in the corner. She got up and went to it, her heart pounding and tears springing to her eyes. A little bed was there, halfway hidden under some blankets and boxes, lined with soft furs and a woven blanket, the design of Khal Drogo's property woven carefully into the weave. She wondered how long it had been there, waiting for a baby to sleep in it's warmth, waiting for her son.

Irri had gone into a smaller room, lighting braziers and candles, and Dany could see her large copper bathtub already steaming hot and ready for her. She stripped off her clothes and wandered in, stepping into the bath and sinking up to her shoulders in the hot, scented water. She could take as long as she liked, no need to rush or get ready to move on again. Doreah was nowhere to be found, but Irri's attitude didn't seem to be concerned. _She must be entertaining her young bloodrider,_ Dany thought, amused. She, however, was looking forward to an early bedtime and plenty of rest without any nighttime molestations from her overly enthusiastic husband, lately a very apologetic and gentle husband. She sat in the hot water and wondered what Drogo was doing. _Probably preparing for the ceremony_, she realized. She called Irri to come to her and help her prepare for the ceremony, too, the words that would be appropriate for the occasion; that is, if she managed to keep the entire stallion's heart down. If she didn't, it would all be for naught. She shuddered, though she couldn't tell if it was from the thought of eating so much raw meat or what would happen to Drogo if she failed.

She practiced repeating the words over and over again, pleasing her young teacher with her determination. "What will you call your son, Khaleesi?" Irri asked. "It will be important to call his name at the ceremony, if he is indeed the Stallion Who Mounts the World."

"What if he's not?" Dany whispered, realizing that it really wasn't up to her or Drogo to make such a claim, although they already had, and the khalasar had only been too happy to follow suit. The Dosh Khaleen would need to confirm it by using their different colored smokes and herbs to see the future.

"I have seen who the lightning has struck, Khaleesi. I know," Irri said, sounding more adamant than Dany had ever heard her be.

"Rhaego, I've been calling him," Dany answered softly. "After my brother, a warrior killed before my birth."

Irri smiled and nodded. "Here's how we put his name in your words . . ."


End file.
